


Like a Storybook Story

by Gnb_rules



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fun, Humor, M/M, No Smut, Romance, The Princess Bride AU, inspiration from both The Princess Bride novel and movie, just for fun, large cast of characters - Freeform, nothing graphic at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 38,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23222419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gnb_rules/pseuds/Gnb_rules
Summary: Dean had only a few hobbies - hunting monsters, riding Baby - his beloved horse, and teasing the former angel and current farmhand, Castiel. Yup, we’re doing a Princess Bride AU!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 63
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I’m branching out a bit – firstly by doing an AU, secondly by posting this multi-chapter WIP. I’m glad to say I’m pretty far along in the writing, and so chapter updates should be pretty regular, at least for awhile. Reviews always appreciated! (Cross-posted at ff.net)

Ten-year-old Jack Kline was laid up in his room, sick with the flu. Even though his whole body ached and his stomach felt gross, he wished his mother would let him out of bed. He was an energetic kid who loved baseball and climbing trees, and was not content to lay still. After three days of being trapped inside, even his favorite video game could not keep his attention.

His mom, Kelly, came in to check on him. “Hey kiddo! Feeling better?”

Jack gave a noncommittal grunt.

“Well, good news! Your dad is here.”

Jack grinned. Despite the fact that his parents had never gotten married, Jack had a great father who loved him very much. “Awesome!” he exclaimed. “Last time, he said he’d bring his glove and we could play catch!” Jack made to get out of bed, but Kelly pushed him back with a gentle hand to his chest.

“I’m sorry, Jack. It’s freezing out and you’re still sick. I don’t want you getting pneumonia on top of everything. Maybe you and your dad can do something else together.”

Jack deflated, looking around his room miserably. “But he doesn’t even like video games...”

“Well, he may have brought a surprise for you.”

There was a knock on Jack’s door, even though it was partially open. Kelly and Jack looked over and saw his father peeking through the gap. “May I come in?” he asked.

Jack nodded eagerly. “Hi Dad! Did you bring me a present?”

His father grinned, stepped into the room, and revealed a wrapped package from behind his back. “I did indeed, Jack.”

He handed over the gift and Jack ripped it open at once.

“A book?” To tell the truth, he was a little disappointed, but tried not to show it. It had been a long time since he’d gotten a present that wasn’t somehow sports-related. “The Prince’s Groom,” Jack said, reading the title out loud. “Is this a girl book, Dad?”

His mom chuckled as Jack’s father sighed. She ruffled her son’s hair before leaving the two men alone. Jack’s father grabbed the nearby desk chair and rolled it over to the bedside. He removed his long coat and draped it over the back before sitting down. “Just because it says prince doesn’t make it girly, Jack, and even if it did, there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

“Does it have any action?”

“Of course! Fencing and fighting! Angels and demons and giants!”

Jack smiled slightly and opened the book. “Doesn’t sound too bad,” he said, skimming the pages.

“I’d like to read it to you, if you don’t mind.”

Jack looked at him. He could read on his own, or course, and wondered if he was too old to have his dad read to him like he was some little kid. But what would his dad do if he read it by himself? He came to visit Jack, not just stare at him.

“Okay, sure, Dad,” he said, and handed him the book. Jack settled back into his pillows.

His father smiled at him, and in his deep, soothing voice, began to read.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean Winchester was the most handsome human and most proficient hunter in the Kingdom of Heaven. Despite this, he was not vain. He had a humble life on his father's farm and was much admired by both the village women and men alike.

Dean, however, did not have much interest in the villagers. He had only a few hobbies - hunting monsters, riding Baby - his beloved horse, and teasing the former angel and current farmhand, Castiel.

Years ago, Castiel had disobeyed an order of Heaven's Great Council. As punishment, he was stripped of his wings and angel powers, and sent to live and work among commoners. Dean's father, John, who had no great love for Heaven's Great Council either, took pity on Castiel. He gave him his meager living circumstances. Castiel worked the farm, tended the stables, and of course, acted as servant to the young Winchester.

Dean was all too happy to have Castiel at his beck and call. He loved to make Cas do a variety of mundane chores for him. Castiel never once complained. He'd merely look at Dean, with those eyes that were the color of the sea before a storm, and say, "As you wish."

"Cas, make sure you brush Baby thoroughly tonight."

"As you wish," he said.

"Cas, fetch me a drink,"

"As you wish," he said.

It was all he ever said, and it took Dean several months before he realized that when Castiel said, "As you wish," he really meant, "I love you."

What was more astonishing to Dean was the day when he realized he truly loved Castiel in return.

Dean Winchester, however, had never been particularly adept at words. Or feelings. Or love. He spent several days in his room, avoiding Castiel altogether. How could he say those three words?

Since Dean had stopped ordering him around, Castiel found that he had a lot more spare time on his hands. He spent much of it reading under the old oak tree just across from the farmhouse. Dean couldn't help but watch him from his bedroom window and admire him from afar.

And then the girl showed up.

He'd seen her before, in the village, and believed her name was Hannah. He watched Hannah sidle up to Castiel beneath the tree. She flashed a smile Dean could see all the way from his window, and he saw Castiel return it graciously.

She twirled her hair around her fingers, and laughed at something Cas had said.

Dean felt white hot rage shoot through his stomach and into his chest. He pounded down the steps of the farmhouse and across the yard until he stood in front of the two.

"Castiel," Dean said coldly. "Did I say you could have a break? Baby's coat is looking downright mangy, and the back fence needs painting, and..."

"Beg your pardon, sir," said Hannah, blushing crimson. "I'll just be going now and leave Castiel to his work." She shot an apologetic glance at the former angel, who looked altogether unaffected by her departure or even by Dean's anger. He stood up, straight as a rod, and looked at Dean with those endlessly blue eyes. "As you wish," he said, and made to move towards the stable.

Dean was absolutely taken aback. He had been intentionally rude, even cruel, perhaps, and Cas just...took it.

Dean moved to block him. "Cas, I...aren't you angry with me? She - she liked you - and I made her leave and...if it were me, I think I'd probably punch myself in the face."

Castiel's hand came up and Dean nearly flinched, but the former angel merely cupped his palm lightly to Dean's cheek. "There's a shortage of perfect faces in the world, Dean. It would be a pity to damage yours."

Dean inhaled sharply. "Cas?" Now was the time, or near enough. He tried to say 'I love you,' but what came out instead was, "Kiss me."

Castiel smiled. "As you wish."

He leaned in and -

_"Hold on, hold on!" interrupted Jack. "You said there was fighting and fencing and cool stuff, Dad! Is this a kissing book?"_

_Jack's father glanced at him. "Well, there is a bit of kissing, yes."_

_"Well, skip that junk and get to the good stuff!"_

_His father sighed. "You know, some day you might not mind so much."_

_"Dad!"_

_"Alright, alright, let me see." He turned a page, and then began to read again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapters coming soon!


	3. Chapter 3

That night, the two men began to make plans for their future together. Dean wanted to travel far and wide, and then settle down in their own little corner of Heaven. Dean worried his father might give them trouble, however, and Castiel worried that his meager wages could not sustain a comfortable life for the two of them.

By the very next morning, however, those little worries became irrelevant. What actually came to pass was something they had never thought of, and was far worse than what they had feared.

Three representatives from Heaven's Great Council arrived at the Winchester farmhouse, and requested a private audience with Castiel.

Dean paced his bedroom as the meeting went on down below. His heart was racing in his chest, and when Castiel returned looking grim and with all his possessions packed in a bag upon his back, Dean knew all their plans were ash.

"What is it, Cas?"

Cas bit his lip and his eyes shimmered. "There are rumors that the demons of Hell are plotting against the Kingdom of Heaven. The Queen has requested that every angel prepare for war and serve should the time come."

"But you're not an angel anymore."

Castiel smiled slightly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "They have agreed to return my wings and powers to me so that I may fight for them. And when the war is done, they will be mine to keep, along with my freedom. We can fly anywhere together, travel wherever we desire, and make a home."

"But Cas - that's only if you survive! A war with demons - it ends bloody. And if you refuse to serve?"

Castiel bowed his head. "I will be executed as a traitor of Heaven."

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed back his pain. They had been happy so briefly. Dean felt the touch of Castiel's palm once again on the skin of his cheek. He leaned into the warmth. "I promise to return to you, Dean. And then we will be free."

* * *

Dean sulked for several weeks after Castiel's departure. He found no more pleasure in hunting the monsters of the Wood, took no joy in it. He found himself more often than not at the bottom of a long drink, numb to the world. His father urged him not to lose himself to grief.

_You're one to talk_ , thought Dean. His father had never been the same since he lost his wife several years prior. John tried to be a decent father, but he was often distant and left the farm for days on end. By the time Dean was a teenager, he was essentially raising himself.

After a few weeks of deep depression, Dean caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He seemed to have aged a decade. Once clear skin had been replaced by lines of worry. He'd gone soft around the middle, no doubt from the excessive drink and lack of hunting.

He hadn't shaved in days.

If Castiel came back to him now, there was a solid chance he would not even recognize him. The thought haunted Dean, and he slammed his fist upon his sink in frustration. Right then, he decided he must take better care of himself so that when Cas returned, he would be worthy of him.

He started with a hot bath. He scrubbed his body and face thoroughly, until he was raw and fresh, free of dirt and dead skin. The next day, he visited the local barber, and had his beard shaved away and his hair cut short and clean.

He started a new routine. In the morning, he worked the farm. He had never had much love for the work, hence why his father brought on Castiel, but now he used it to train. He hauled bales of hay where needed. He painted the back fence, switching hands on occasion to strengthen his weaker arm and grip. He cut firewood, raked leaves, did anything and everything to keep in shape.

At night, he began to hunt again. The vampires of the Wood had grown bold in his absence, but he returned with a ferocity that was unmatched. He cut down those that strayed too near the village homes. He defeated werewolves, wendigo, all manner of evil.

He was the strongest, most beautiful, and most confident he had ever been. Heads turned as he passed in the market square, adoring eyes followed him, and word of his legend spread far and wide.

He noticed none of it, and merely continued his routine and waited for news of the rumored war and specifically of Castiel.

When it finally came, he wished it had not.

It was all in a letter with the Heavenly seal upon the envelope. War had not yet broken out, but tensions ran high between the two kingdoms. Castiel's troop had been sent on a secret mission past Hell's gates and been discovered by the Dread Demon Caine.

Dread Demon Caine, who never kept prisoners.

All angels were feared lost.

John Winchester watched the color drain from Dean's face as he read the news. "Son, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Dad." Which is what a Winchester always said when they weren't fine.

"But I will never love anyone else."

And he never did.


	4. Chapter 4

Weeks passed. Dean awoke each morning and worked the farm. He hunted at night, killing all monsters that strayed across his path. He drank himself to sleep.

Through it all, he was numb.

So when the Queen's only kin – her brother and Prince of Heaven himself – arrived at the Winchester farmhouse, Dean could not have cared less.

John and Dean stood at the doorway as Prince Chuck rode towards them, followed by his Royal entourage.

When the Prince laid eyes on Dean, he smiled and dismounted from his horse. He was a pompous little fellow. "The rumors are true, I see. There have been tales of a hunter as handsome as he is strong, as righteous and true as any mortal can be. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Dean."

Dean shook Prince Chuck's hand and had to hide his disgust at how sweaty it was. "And yours," said Dean.

"I suppose you're wondering why I've come to call."

"Not really," said Dean shortly, and the Prince grimaced slightly. He was used to being worshiped, not brushed off. Still, he pressed on as though he hadn't heard the hunter.

"You may have heard that my sister – Queen Amara – has taken ill. It is unfortunately true, and I fear the worst. Though I'd much prefer her return to health, I have to face the possibility that I will soon inherit the kingdom. And I have come to the conclusion that to instill the proper respect and admiration of the people, and to ensure my own happiness and safety, it is time that I married."

Dean felt his frustration growing. "No disrespect, your Highness, but I still don't know why you're here."

"I want to marry a mortal to further progress the relations between my kind and yours. You, Dean, are the very best of them. A righteous man, a skilled hunter, and from looking at you, probably a pretty good lay."

John Winchester coughed uncomfortably, but Prince Chuck paid him no notice. "Will you make me the happiest of cosmic beings and be my partner and husband?"

Dean looked Prince Chuck over. He was not much, but Dean supposed he could do worse. His heart was not in it, of course. John whispered to his son. "It is up to you, Dean, but it may be...unwise...to refuse him. Godly creatures are not above petty revenge."

Dean sighed. He would not risk the safety of his only family, and since his own happiness was already out of range, he felt apathetically resigned. He met Prince Chuck's gaze. "I can be your husband, Prince Chuck, but you must be aware that I can never love you."

Chuck shrugged. "Not to worry, love is the last thing I need."

And so in just a few days, Dean had moved into Heaven's castle and prepared to become royalty.

* * *

What with one thing and another, three years passed. Prince Chuck arranged the details for a grand wedding, though Dean spent very little time with the man that was to be his groom. He was less likely to get on his nerves that way, although occasionally Dean still found his behavior grating. Especially when he forced Dean to read the stories he wrote, and Dean didn't have the energy to tell him that they sucked.

Dean's only joy now was riding alone through the countryside on Baby, whom the Prince had allowed him to bring to the Royal Stables.

One morning, while Dean was riding along, he ran into two men along his path. He dismounted to greet them.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello, boy," replied one of them, with an accent Dean couldn't place. "I'm Crowley, and my friend here is Benny. We've been trying to settle a bet, do you think you could help?"

"I guess so," he said.

"If a hunter falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does his body make a sound?" And then Crowley's eyes flashed black.

Dean was lightning fast in pulling out his Demon blade, and he easily could have fended off the two scoundrels, had it not been for the third he never saw coming.

A giant fist swung towards his face and made contact. It was a powerful punch that damn near spun his head around. He stumbled back, vision blurred, and he heard hooves galloping away. Baby had been frightened into running.

And then a second punch connected and the world went black and empty.

* * *

Dean awoke with a pounding headache, his hands tied behind his back with rope. He was on a boat, in the middle of a smooth sea, with his three captors. Now the one that had taken him by surprise was sitting right in front of him, staring.

He was indeed a giant of a man, legs and arms that went on for ages. He had luxuriously long hair and kind eyes, oddly enough. "Sorry about punching you, man. But you know, that's the job."

Dean sighed. "That's comforting."

Dean looked around. The one called Crowley was staring out at the sea and paying him no mind. Benny was cleaning his teeth, which protruded very sharply from his mouth. So a demon, a vampire, a giant and a human board a boat. It sounded like the start of a bad joke.

"So, which one of you idiots is in charge here?" Dean asked.

Benny let out a booming laugh. He jerked a thumb in Crowley's direction. "That's him."

Crowley looked over at Dean with a scowl. "You'd do well to mind your tongue, if you don't want me to rip it out of you."

Dean was far too used to demon showboating to be intimidated. "I just want you to know that, in the unlikely event that I don't break free and kill you all, Prince Chuck will find you and do it anyway. He may be a little self-centered, but he is a powerful being who won't take too kindly to the kidnapping of his future husband."

Crowley smirked. "We shall see about that."

* * *

Several miles away, back on land, Prince Chuck was indeed in a rage. Baby had returned to the castle, alone and frightened. Hanging loose on her saddle was a patch of fabric that appeared to have been ripped during a struggle. "Do you see this?" Prince Chuck said loudly to his entourage. "This cloth is sewn in Hell's fabric and smells of sulfur. It seems that the Kingdom of Hell has abducted my groom."

The Count, The Prince's right-hand man, said, "We must set off at once to rescue him."

Prince Chuck nodded in agreement. "If Dean is at all harmed, there will be Hell to pay. No pun intended."

But of course it was.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey Crowley? You sure no one is following us?"

"Inconceivable. No one from Heaven could have gotten here so fast, and no one in Hell knows what we've done. But...why do you ask?"

"Well, I looked back and I swear I see a ship behind us," said Benny.

Crowley looked in the direction Benny was pointing. It was certainly difficult to see through the fog. Dean also looked that way. He too thought he saw a mast poking out on the horizon, gaining on them. A ship of any kind could mean salvation. Luckily, Dean had been working his ropes and had managed to break free, though the goons didn't know it yet.

"Moose, row faster. We need to get to the cliffs immediately."

The man called Moose grumbled a bit but sped up his pace with the oars. He used his strong arms to maneuver them through the water, but the ship became larger in their vision even as they attempted to pull away.

It was while they were distracted with the ship that Dean made his move, leaping into the sea to freedom. He was a strong swimmer and knew he could make it to the other ship. He only hoped that there was someone friendly waiting there.

Crowley shouted at his henchmen. "Go after him!"

Benny gave him a shrug. "I don't swim," he said.

Moose said quickly, "Me neither." Though Crowley didn't quite believe him.

And then a terrible shrieking began, and Dean felt something moving in the water just to his left. With horror, he realized —

"Those are the Shrieking Sirens, boys. And not pretty babes like you might think, but flesh-eating monsters of the deep."

Crowley was right, of course. Dean knew his lore well. He began to swim more frantically.

"If you return to the boat, I promise no harm will come to you," said Crowley. "I doubt you'll get such an offer from the Sirens."

Sure enough, a scaly Siren's face emerged from the water, and then another, and another. They were surrounding Dean, teeth bared and long shriveled fingers reaching for his arms and —

_Jack's father paused in his reading. "The Sirens don't get him at this point, just so you know."_

_Jack was clutching his sheets, and only when his father stopped reading did he realize that he'd also been holding his breath. "What?" he asked._

_"You were looking a little worried, Jack. It's alright, though. The Sirens don't get him."_

_"I wasn't worried," said Jack defensively. "Just a little...concerned. Dean has really bad luck."_

_His father laughed slightly. "I suppose he does. Should I keep going?"_

_Jack shrugged and tried to make it seem like it didn't matter to him. "If you want," he said._

_His dad smiled. "Now where was I..." He skimmed the page with his finger._

_"Ah, right..."_

They were surrounding Dean, teeth bared and long shriveled fingers reaching for his arms and face. In that moment, he knew he had met his untimely end. All he could hope for was for it to be quick, and that somewhere beyond Heaven and Hell, he would at least be reunited with Castiel again.

A giant hand came down and grabbed Dean by the scruff of his collar. It pulled him bodily up and back into the boat of his captors. The giant's sleeves were wet from the sea. "Not a good way to go, man."

Crowley was furious. "Next time, we won't save you!" He turned his back to them.

Dean spoke to Moose so low that Crowley couldn't hear as the giant tied him back up. "Look, Moose –"

"It's Sam," the Giant interrupted. "Crowley just calls me that because – actually, I don't know why he calls me that."

"Sam," he whispered. "Listen, you don't seem the sort to hang around with monsters."

"Benny's not so bad," Sam said defensively. "And Crowley..."

Sam trailed off, clearly having no argument ready for the demon.

"Alright, but you've got a real chance here. Whatever he's offered you, I'll match it. Top it, even, if you help me escape."

"I'm sorry, Dean. I've made a deal and I can't break it now."

Dean bit back his frustration. Perhaps he'd have another chance later to convince Sam to help him.

They reached the base of a large cliff. The ship in the distance was edging closer. It was definitely following them.

"Inconceivable," said Crowley, watching it approach. "Well, no matter. Only Moose is strong enough to climb the cliff. That man will have to sail all the way around until he finds a harbor!"

With that, the kidnappers forced Dean to exit the boat and step onto the rocky shore. They began to latch onto Sam's back with a system of harnesses. They even forced Dean into one of the contraptions as well. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and even more so when the giant began to climb the cliff by holding onto a dangling rope. Dean could only assume it had been pre-set by these crooks before they had kidnapped him.

Sam's assent was surprisingly swift, and soon enough they had made good progress up the cliffs. Below them, they could see the ship that had tailed them. There was a lone figure on the deck. He was dressed all in black, complete with a black mask that obscured his face. Once he neared the shore, the man anchored his ship and, without hesitation, dove into the bay. He swam the short distance to the rocks and quickly grabbed ahold of the very rope that Sam was hoisting them up.

The stranger was even quicker at navigating the rope than Sam. Crowley growled at the giant when he realized this. "Inconceivable! You were supposed to be this magnificent colossus, this great strong warrior, and yet he gains on us!"

Sam grunted with exertion. "I'm carrying three people, he just has himself."

"Useless," muttered Crowley.

"Don't worry about him, Sam, you're doing wonderfully, brother," said Benny.

Soon enough, they had made it to the top of what should have been the insurmountable cliffs. They hurried out of their harnesses, and Crowley grabbed a blade from his pocket and began cutting through the rope. The Man in Black was more than three quarters of the way up.

The rope splintered and broke, falling several hundred feet to the ground below. Crowley let out a triumphant "Ha," but his excitement was short-lived.

"Uh, Crowley?" said Benny. Both he and Sam were peering over the edge of the cliff. "He didn't fall."

"What, how?"

It was true. The moment he felt the rope go slack, The Man in Black had made a desperate but skilled leap. His hands scrambled for a grip. Fingers dug into the cliff face and found a hold. His toes perched on the narrowest of ledges. He took a deep breath, clearly to steady himself.

And then, as the men on the cliff all watched, he began to climb.

"Inconceivable!" said Crowley.

"You keep using that word," said Benny. "I do not think it means what you think it means."

"We don't have time for this!" He turned to Sam. "We will go on ahead. We need to get him to Hell ASAP," he said, nodding at Dean who was discreetly trying to untie his own hands. "Finish that man off. If he falls, great, if not, the sword."

Sam nodded. "I'll take him left-handed."

"I just said we're in a hurry and you want to show off!"

"It's the only way it's fair, Crowley."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Come on, Benny, bring him along."

"Aye aye, Captain," he said. Benny paused to retie Dean's hands, and the hunter groaned at having been discovered. He had been so close to loosing the knot again. "Brother, give it a rest. There's no way out of this one."

And then he placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and began pulling him along, although not as roughly as he could have.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam paced at the top of the cliff. He hated waiting while Benny and Crowley handled Dean, who had proven to be difficult and potentially dangerous. Sam needed this to go as planned so that his portion of the demon deal would be complete.

The Man in Black was making progress pulling himself up the cliff, but it was certainly slow-going. Sam pulled out his sword and slashed the air, his footwork precise and steady.

He sighed.

"Hey, um, any chance you could hurry up?" called Sam down the cliff.

The scowl was audible in the response. "Well, if you're in such a hurry, you could throw me a rope or branch or _something_."

Sam eyed the leftover rope that was resting near the edge of the cliff. "I could do that," he said. "But will you take it? I'm actually only waiting around to kill you."

"That does put a damper on our relationship."

"What if I promise not to kill you until you reach the top?"

"Promises can be broken. You'll just have to wait."

"I'll give you my word, then."

"I'm sorry, but the word of someone I don't know means surprisingly little."

Sam exhaled slowly. _"I swear on the soul of my mother, you will reach the top alive."_

The Man in Black could hear the pain and sincerity in every word, the heaviness with which the giant spoke. "Throw me the rope," he finally replied.

Sam grinned. He made sure the rope was secure on his end, and then threw the other side down. The Man in Black grabbed it and began to climb. When he neared the top, Sam reached out and pulled him steady onto solid ground.

"Thank you," The Man said. He reached for his sword, but Sam stopped him.

"It's alright, take a moment to catch your breath."

"Again, thank you." The Man took the opportunity to lean against a nearby rock for support. He reached into the bag upon his back and pulled out a waterskin, then took a long drink from it.

Sam gazed at The Man with intense interest. Their eyes met. "You have blue eyes," he said.

The Man blinked, not entirely sure where this was going. "Um, I'm sorry, but if this is a flirtation, I consider myself spoken for."

Sam shook his head. He pulled his sword out and held it out for The Man to admire. "My mother made this sword at the request of a nobleman with yellow eyes. It took her over a year to complete it. It was her finest work."

The Man looked at it. It was a thing of beauty - precisely crafted, with a stunning handle and shining blade. "I've never seen its equal," said The Man honestly.

Sam nodded. "When it was completed, the yellow-eyed man returned and demanded the sword, but at one-tenth his promised price. My mother refused. Without any word or warning, he put his sword through her heart."

The Man in Black heaved a sigh. "My deepest condolences."

"I loved her very much," Sam confessed. "I was only ten, but I challenged the yellow-eyed man to a duel. I lost. He left me alive, but just barely. My Uncle Bobby found me later that night, broken body curled around the sword and lying next to my dead mother. He took me in after that, taught me all he knew about sword fighting, hunting, and lore."

"And now?" asked The Man in Black.

"And now, I am strong enough. I will never stop searching for the yellow-eyed man, and when I find him, this time I will not lose. I will say: Hello. My name is Samuel, son of Mary. You killed my mother. Prepare to die."

"I sincerely hope you find him someday," said The Man. He stood up straighter. He put the waterskin away and this time, when he reached for his sword, Sam didn't stop him.

"You're ready?"

"Even if I'm not, you've been more than fair."

Sam straightened up as well and raised his sword. "You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you."

"You seem a decent fellow. I'd hate to die."

And then they began the most epic swordfight those cliffs would ever see.

* * *

Sam made excellent use of the rocky terrain, moving with more grace than most would think possible for a man his size. He was fast on his feet, but his sword was even faster. Still, The Man in Black was managing to parry every attack. Every time Sam thought he'd gotten the upper-hand, he was proven wrong by a countering flash of steel.

"You're amazing," said Sam.

"Not so bad yourself," replied The Man, sword glinting in the sunlight.

The clang of metal on metal was added to the far away sound of the sea's waves lapping against the shore.

Sam used his long reach to extend from afar, prodding and slashing through the air. Soon he had forced The Man in Black to the edge of the cliffside and every step now became twice as dangerous. The rocks were loose beneath their shoes, and more than once they slipped dangerously close to disaster.

After a particularly close call for The Man in Black, he decided to go on the attack rather than continuing to defend himself. He arched his arm up and came down smoothly, flicking his wrist upward at the last second to catch Sam in his right bicep. Sam grimaced slightly – the sword had sliced through his shirt and grazed his skin in a shallow cut. But the giant smiled. "I have to admit, you're better than me."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Because I know something you don't."

"What's that?"

"I am not left-handed." Sam tossed the sword from his left to his right hand and caught it easily before renewing the fight, now with more energy than ever. There was power behind every swipe and every thrust. The Man in Black was breathing heavily as he attempted to protect himself, and at the first opening he saw, he retreated far back from Sam and away from the edge of the cliff.

"Giving up?" asked Sam. He couldn't help but feel just a bit elated at a victory over such a fine competitor. It had been a long time since he'd been challenged even half as much.

"No," The Man in Black replied, "but I do have something to tell you."

Sam smirked. "Oh yeah?"

"Yes," he said solemnly. "I am not left-handed, either." And with that, he too tossed his sword swiftly from one hand to the other and approached the giant again.

They were at each other at once, every move precise, any mistake now certainly fatal. The Man in Black was unlike anyone Sam had ever fought. Another few steps forward, a few steps back, more clanks of steel colliding. Sam was definitely breaking a sweat just in his attempts to fend off his opponent.

"Who are you?" Sam grunted.

"No one of consequence," came the reply.

"I must know."

"Get used to disappointment."

The Man in Black found another opening, a parry, a flick of the wrist, and he managed to nick Sam's other arm. The giant groaned, but before he could do anything more than that, The Man was at him again. Sam was getting tired and slower and he felt his hope leave him. And all at once his sword was knocked out of his grip, and then The Man in Black had his own pointed directly over Sam's heart.

"On your knees," said The Man calmly.

Sam did so, hating himself. He had failed his mother. This was it.

"Hurry up and do it," growled Sam. He closed his eyes and braced himself for both the pain and the eventual sweet relief.

"Today is not your day to die, friend. But since I can't have you follow me, either…just know that I hold you in the highest regard."

Just as Sam opened his eyes and was about to ask The Man what he meant, he felt the hilt of the man's sword crash into the back of his skull. Sam collapsed onto the ground, vision replaced by the dark embrace of unconsciousness.

With just a brief tilt of his head and respectful nod at the fallen, The Man in Black turned away and hurried onward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to lie, fight scenes are definitely difficult for me... Anyways, reviews always appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

Benny, Crowley, and Dean had made it further along and were now surrounded by vegetation. The trees blocked most of the sunlight and made everything look dark and wild. Crowley was hacking at some underbrush with a long knife, making a poor attempt to clear a path for them while Benny had Dean's own Demon blade pointed at him for extra security.

Impossible to notice for most, Benny's sharp vampire senses picked up on a slight, familiar scent wafting through the air. He recognized it from the cliffside – The Man in Black. Benny looked nervously over his shoulder.

"Boss, I think we have a problem."

"What now?" growled Crowley, cutting through some of the low-hanging branches that were in his way.

"The Man in Black is on our tail again. Damn, I hope Sam's okay."

"It's his own fault if he's not. I'll leave it to you then to do what he couldn't. Finish him. Your way."

"My way?"

"Are you a vampire or not? Drink him dry!"

Benny grimaced and saw the same distasteful expression pass over their captive's face. "Man," Dean said, "I know your kind can't help it, but that's sick. If I got turned, I'd rather die than drain some poor bastard."

"The only neck you ought to worry about is your own," said Crowley harshly. "Considering you're all tied up at the moment and en route to Hell."

"Reminds me," said Benny. "I better check the ropes again before you take off with him. He's a slippery one."

"Fine," said Crowley, and he went back to clearing a path for them while Benny retied Dean's hands. He had once again been just shy of getting the rope off.

"I can't free you," said Benny quietly in Dean's ear. "I got a debt to pay Crowley. But I want to tell ya, my kind can help it if we try. Crowley doesn't know, but I've been strictly on animal blood for three years now."

Dean looked at Benny and found that he believed him. He wondered if, in a different life, he and Benny could have been friends.

Crowley finished clearing the path and took Dean by the upper arm. He dragged him along through the brush.

"Catch up with us after it's done," Crowley ordered Benny.

"Aye," said Benny, but he didn't look pleased about it, and watched rather forlornly as Crowley pulled Dean away.

Benny turned towards the wafting scent of The Man in a Black. He was close now, within a hundred yards, but the dense foliage and trees would make him hard to see. Benny decided to get a better vantage point and climbed to the lower branches of a sturdy tree.

He watched and waited until The Man in Black came into view. His eyes were alert and searching, but he didn't see Benny hidden among the branches. Suddenly Benny felt a wave of remorse.

He was a monster, but he had never felt the pull to be monstrous.

He sighed and vigorously shook the branches nearest him. The rustling sound gave him away immediately, as was intended. The Man in Black looked at him and pulled out his sword.

Benny dropped down to the ground, cat-like and nimble. "I could have taken you by surprise," he said.

"So why didn't you?" The Man asked.

Benny shrugged. "Didn't seem fair."

"No offense, but I've never known vampires to care very much about fairness."

"They don't. But that's them, not me, brother." Benny paused thoughtfully. "Did you kill Sam? The giant?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Before we fought, he told me of his quest to avenge his mother. I didn't want to be the one to stand between him and achieving that goal."

Benny nodded. "I appreciate that. He's a good man, and a friend to me."

The Man nodded back. "So, what happens now?"

Benny looked down at Dean's blade in his hand. "We fight," he said. "Not as monsters or masters, though. As men. I won't use either of these," he said, pointing from his fangs to the blade, "if you don't use that," he gestured to The Man's sword.

"Lay down our weapons and try to kill each other like civilized people? Alright then," The Man agreed. He dropped his sword to the side, and Benny likewise tossed Dean's Demon blade to the ground. The two men began to circle each other, arms up and ready, prepared to defend or attack.

Benny was the first to make a move, reaching out in an attempt to grab him into a stranglehold, but The Man skirted his grasp with a quick side-step. Before Benny could regain his bearings all the way, The Man went for a kick to Benny's knee, which the vampire was just able to dodge as well.

They circled again.

"You're very spry."

"Thank you."

Benny made as if to leap left, but then swerved in midair to catch The Man to his right. He'd gotten hold of his arm and wrenched it backward, but The Man managed to spin out of his grip and used the remaining momentum to kick out once again. This time his heavy boot connected with Benny's kneecap. He groaned and went down. The Man was on him in an instant, wrestling him all the way to the ground and pinning him there.

"Buy me a drink first, huh?"

The Man grinned slightly. "In your dreams," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe with a deep red liquid in it. "I do apologize if this counts as a weapon."

Benny sighed. "Deadman's blood?"

"Just enough to keep you off my tail," he replied.

Benny made one last valiant effort to turn the tables, but The Man was ready for the attempt. He quickly poked the syringe into the skin of Benny's forearm. He pushed the plunger down just as Benny gained leverage to flip him. Benny let out a groan before collapsing heavily on top of The Man.

The Man grunted as he pushed Benny's unconscious body off of him. He retrieved his sword and the Demon blade from off the ground, then hurried through the path that had been cleared before him. He was set on his goal and knew that he was close now. He could not be stopped.


	8. Chapter 8

Back in the woods, Benny had disappeared, but evidence of his tussle with The Man in Black remained. Prince Chuck, along with The Count and his trusted Royal entourage, had tracked the kidnappers to that very spot.

"After defeating a giant back at the cliff top, there was a hand-to-hand battle right here," said Prince Chuck. He picked up a discarded syringe from the ground and gave it a sniff. "Dead man's blood, just as I suspected! A vampire lost the match and ran off that way." He pointed to the left. "But the victor ran that way."

"Should we track them both, your Highness?" asked The Count.

"The loser is nothing, only Dean matters," he replied, and so the group followed the trail that had been cleared of brush.

* * *

Crowley, in his infinite wisdom, decided that he couldn't risk Dean learning the way to the secret gates of Hell in the last leg of their journey, so he blindfolded him. If the hunter managed to escape, perhaps his disorientation would last long enough for him to be recaptured. Not that he intended to let him escape.

They were almost there when Crowley heard the footsteps behind them. He turned and saw The Man in Black heading towards them. "Inconceivable!" he said.

As The Man came nearer, Crowley grabbed Dean and placed a blade to his throat. "Come closer and he dies."

The Man in Black stopped in his tracks. "Kill him and you die today as well."

"But he'll still be dead."

The Man in Black's eyes were alive with malice, but he had no retort.

"I believe we are at an impasse," said Crowley. "You're trying to take what I have rightfully stolen. I'm no match for you physically, and you're no match for my intellect."

"You're that smart, are you?"

"Ever hear of Plato? Aristotle? Socrates? Morons."

"Excellent. Then I suppose you would have no qualms if I challenge you to a battle of wits."

"For the hunter?"

The Man nodded.

"To the death?"

Another nod.

"Marvelous," said Crowley. "What did you have in mind?"

The Man took a seat on the hard ground and gestured at Crowley to join him. The demon sat, pulling Dean down with him as he did so.

"Watch it," growled Dean.

"Shut up or I'll make you," responded Crowley, pressing the blade harder against Dean's throat, though not enough to break skin.

While the two traded threats, The Man reached into the bag that was slung upon his back. He pulled out a vial of powder, a bottle of wine, and two small goblets. He set about pouring the wine into the glasses.

Crowley watched suspiciously. "Having a tea party, are we?"

"It's wine, not tea," said The Man humorlessly. He picked up the mysterious vial of powder and took out the stopper. "And this is our battle of wits." He handed it to Crowley, who took it carefully. "Inhale, but do not touch."

Crowley sniffed the open vial. "I smell nothing."

"What you do not smell is a very special poison, known as The Lance of Michael. It is tasteless, odorless, dissolves instantly in any liquid. And it is deadly to all creatures, be they human, demon, or angel."

"Handy," said Crowley.

"Indeed."

The Man took the two wine goblets and took back the vial, then turned away from Crowley so that he could not see what he was doing. Then he returned the goblets to the ground between them, setting one in front of Crowley and the other directly in front of himself.

"Which goblet holds the poison? The game ends when you decide, we each drink, and we find out who is right…and who is dead."

Crowley grinned. "Oh, this is too simple by far! All I have to do is divine from what I know of you - are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet or that of his enemies?"

The Man said nothing.

"Now, a clever man would put the poison into his own goblet, knowing only a great fool would reach for what he is given. I am not a great fool, so I clearly cannot choose the wine in front of you." Crowley hesitated for a moment, watching The Man for any sign that his words were correct. There was not a flicker of any emotion to be found. "But," he continued, "you would know that I am not a great fool, so clearly I cannot choose the wine in front of me."

"You've made your decision then?" The Man asked.

"Not remotely! Because everyone knows Michael was an archangel, and archangels are used to people not trusting them, as you are not trusted by me, so clearly I cannot choose the wine in front of you."

"You're just stalling," said The Man.

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? You beat my giant, so you must be very strong, and strong men conceitedly think that death will not come for them. You'd likely put the poison in your own goblet, counting on your strength to save you."

Once again, The Man said nothing.

"But you also beat a vampire, so you must have studied your lore, and in studying you would know that all humans are mortal, and put the poison as far away from you as possible."

"You're trying to make me give something away. It won't work."

"You've already given everything away," said Crowley. "I know where the poison is!"

"Then make your choice," said The Man, voice icy as winter.

"I will, and I choose – what in Lucifer's name is that?" Crowley suddenly exclaimed, pointing over The Man in Black's shoulder. The Man looked around, and while his back was turned, Crowley switched the positions of the goblets.

The Man turned around, none the wiser. "I didn't see anything."

"Must have been a trick of the light," said Crowley, trying not to laugh. "Shall we drink? Me from my glass, and you from yours."

The Man nodded. The two picked up their goblets. "Cheers," said The Man in Black. The two bumped glasses and each took a solemn gulp of wine.

"Wrong choice," said The Man calmly.

Crowley began to shake with laughter. "You nitwit. You only think I chose wrong because I switched the goblets when you weren't looking! You should have known better than to challenge me! You may be good, but I'm Crowley!"

Those were his last words before he keeled over, dead.

The Man in Black sighed slightly, repacked his bag, and then turned to Dean. He removed the hunter's blindfold, and they both stood up.

Dean looked at Crowley's body on the ground beside him. "So it was your wine that was poisoned the whole time," he said.

"They were both poisoned," The Man replied. "I've spent several years building an immunity to the Lance of Michael poison."

Dean nodded, as if it was a sensible thing to do. "Thank you for helping me, by the way. I'll make sure the Prince pays you handsomely."

"Who says I'm here to help you," said The Man, and Dean was taken aback by the sudden cold tone. He was even more thrown when The Man grabbed him by the arm and began to drag him along, just as his other captors had done. "I'm taking you to my ship. So this Prince you love so dearly can keep his money."

"I never said I loved him."

That stopped The Man in his tracks. "You admit you do not love your fiancé?"

"He knows I don't."

"Aren't capable of love, most likely."

Dean stared angrily back, rage building in his chest. He pulled at the bonds around his hands, but they didn't give way quite yet. "I have loved more deeply than a demon like you could ever imagine."

"Oh yeah? Another prince? Lazy, dumb, and rich?"

Dean looked away. They were on the ridge of a grassy hill now. The sun was starting to set on the horizon. In another circumstance, Dean may have found it quite beautiful. "No," he said softly. "He was a fallen angel. Poor, but strong and kind. With eyes like the sea before a storm."

He looked back now, his own green eyes blazing. "And you murdered him, didn't you, Cain?" Because who else but Cain was known for his all black attire and mask? Who but the Dread Cain could beat a giant, a vampire, and a demon? Who else could be as wicked?

The Man didn't deny it. "It's possible. I murdered a lot of people in Hell."

"His troop was sent to spy on Hell from within. They were captured and you slaughtered them all."

"Ah yes, I remember him. He was the only human they sent, wasn't he?"

Dean felt as if he had swallowed a hot stone. "No. Heaven's Great Council was supposed to return his angel powers and wings to him before his mission."

"They lied. All the better for me, of course. Angels aren't nearly as fragile. Pain works far better on a man."

Dean was sinking in despair. He had hoped that Castiel had died quickly. That he had not suffered. This monster had ensured that he did.

"He died well though. Even after the torture, there was no begging, no blubbery. He just said - 'Please. Please, I have to live.' It was the please that stood out to me. I asked him what was so important that he had to live for. True love is what he said. And then he spoke of a man of great looks, a skilled hunter, who was loyal to a fault, and the best man he ever knew. I can only assume he meant you. It was kinder for me to kill him before he found out what you really are."

"What am I, really?" snarled Dean.

"He spoke of loyalty, undying loyalty!" Cain raged back. "Tell me, how long after the news of his death did you run off to your Prince? Did you grieve your love before popping the champagne in celebration of your newfound wealth and fame?"

Angry tears filled Dean's eyes. He stood as straight and defiant as he could. "I died when he did," he said. With a great heave, Dean managed to rip free of the rope at last. "And you can die too for all I care." He didn't have a weapon anymore, so he did the next best thing and used his newly free hands to push Cain down the steep ridge.

As Cain tumbled down, he called out to Dean. "As yooouu wish!"

Dean felt shock surge through him, and then panic. What had he just done?

"Cas? Cas!"

Dean tried to run down the hill after him, but soon enough, his own momentum overwhelmed him and he was stumbling and tumbling down, down, down after Castiel.

He hit rocks and brambles as he rolled, his stomach churned, and then after what seemed like ages, the land evened out. He slowed to a stop at the bottom. He was scratched and bruised and aching. He didn't care. He didn't care because Cas was next to him, equally bruised but miraculously alive.

His mask had come off during the fall. He had a short beard that he hadn't had when he left, and he had aged just as Dean had in the last three years. But his eyes - how had Dean not recognized him? His angel had returned. 

"Cas."

They reached for each other at the same time, Cas pressing a hand softly to the skin of Dean's cheek. "I told you I would return for you. Why didn't you wait for me?" he asked softly.

"You were dead, Cas."

"Death cannot stop a bond as profound as ours, Dean. I will always return to you."

"I won't doubt you again."

"You won't need to."

They kissed with all the love and passion that had only grown in their three year separation. In that perfect instant, it was as easy and as necessary as breathing.

The moment held, but all too soon Castiel rose to his feet. He helped Dean up as well. "We have to keep moving. Your Prince has just found us, and I can't imagine he'll take too kindly to me."

Dean looked to where Cas was pointing up the hill. He could see four or five people up there, and one did indeed look like Prince Chuck. He had to agree with Cas - Chuck didn't love Dean, but he would not tolerate being humiliated by losing him to another. A fallen angel no less.

"How do we get away?"

They started to move, Dean following Cas at a quick pace. "I know a shortcut to my ship, just up ahead. You're not going to like it though."

Dean felt a sense of foreboding. "Why?"

Cas tried to look casual. "It's through a rift that goes through Purgatory."

Dean grimaced. Purgatory was filled with monsters and peril, beyond that of even Hell. "We'll never survive."

"Dean, you're just saying that because no one ever has before." Cas said.

The two hurried forward. Soon the grassy land gave way to dense trees, and shimmering in front of them - a thin golden line split the air, like a crack in the universe. Which it basically was.

They braced themselves with a simultaneous deep breath. Dean slipped his hand into Cas's, and together, they stepped through the rift and into Purgatory.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some canon-typical violence. Monsters get the brunt of it, and I don't think it's exceedingly descriptive/graphic, but I'd say it is more so than other chapters so far. Figured I'd add a warning to be safe.

Purgatory had a smell, like sulfur and plant decay. The trees were many, but they were bare and their spindly branches looked like twisted bones reaching up to the sky. Night had fallen, although it was hard to be sure if that had anything to do with time, or if it was just perpetually dark in this new land.

Cas and Dean walked through the barren woods together. Dean reluctantly let go of Castiel's hand - it was better if they were to be ready to fight whatever may come their way.

"You have an extra weapon, Cas? Those crooks stole my Demon blade."

Cas grinned. "Actually I swiped it back from that vampire after I knocked him out." Cas reached into his bag, pulled out the weapon, and handed it to Dean.

Dean smiled. The weight of the blade was reassuring, and there was a certain relief in being armed again with Cas at his side. The two of them had always been a good team. Still, he wasn't going to let his guard down. His eyes darted around the trees as they walked.

Once he was fairly sure they weren't currently being stalked, Dean decided it was safe enough to speak. "Hey, Cas? I was kind of wondering, how are you alive? Not that I'm not thrilled, but I thought Cain got you?"

Cas glanced at him before returning his sights to the trees, wary of movement. "Well, you were right with your first guess, Dean. I am the Dread Demon Cain."

"But that's not possible. I know you're old, but Cain has been terrorizing Hell for longer than you've existed. And…you're not a demon."

Cas nodded slightly in confirmation. "Well, the story I told you was true. Heaven's Great Council sent me to Hell as a human. They said the power of the angels would provide a good cover and distraction while I got the real intel. But I knew it was still part of my punishment for having fallen."

Dean swore under his breath. He had to work to fight away his rage at Heaven's betrayal.

Cas, however, seemed unperturbed by his own story. "Cain captured us all. Separated us. I don't know what became of them – they may still be in Hell. But he was particularly interested in me," Cas said. "You see, I was a human among angels. The two have never mixed particularly well, and he thought it strange that a military operation would include both."

Dean bit his lip, the question he was afraid to ask burning on his tongue. "You said – you said he tortured you, Cas?"

Cas looked away from Dean. "Afraid so. He spent maybe a month or so torturing me and healing me just to torture again. There wasn't much I could tell him, though. I hadn't been privy to some bigger plan, and eventually I think he just wanted to break my spirit. It didn't work. Any time he started in with the torture – well, I thought of you. And it saved me."

Cas allowed himself to look up at Dean. Their eyes met, and it was all Dean could do not to pull Cas into an embrace and never let go.

Instead, he walked a little faster to keep pace with the former angel. The quicker they got out of here, away from danger and away from Chuck, the better.

"Then what happened, Cas?" he asked, trying to rid his imagination of the many ways a demon like Cain might torture someone.

"Well, after a month, he told me was done torturing me. I assumed he meant to kill me, so I said: Please, I have to live. And amazingly, he listened to me speak of you. He was quiet for awhile, thoughtful. Then he left me alone in my cell that night, and the next morning, he let me out."

"He freed you?"

"Sort of. I'm not sure if you're aware, but Cain has a passion for sailing nearly as much as he has a passion for torture. He took me to his ship. I wasn't allowed to leave it, and I'm ashamed to say at that point I was too afraid to try. But from then on he was nothing but gracious to me. I met his crew and I became an apprentice, I guess? I helped the chef cook, and scrubbed the deck, and learned about sailing. In the evenings, he taught me the ways of the sword. I certainly wasn't very good at first," Cas said with a small smile.

"He seemed to struggle with himself about me, though. Every night, before I retired to my cabin, he'd say, 'Goodnight, Castiel, good work today, I must try to kill you in the morning. For years, he said that. Until one night he came to my cabin and told me his secret."

Dean raised an eyebrow at Cas. "Which was?"

Cas grinned slightly. It was clear he was enjoying having Dean as an audience. "I'm getting to it. 'I am not the real Dread Demon Cain,' he said. My name is Timothy, but no one would have been afraid of the Dread Demon Timothy. It's the name that inspires the proper fear, that leaves the legacy.' He told me that he had inherited the name of Cain and his ship from a man named Cain, who was also not the real deal. His real name was Ryan, and the name and ship had been passed down several times even before him. When the current Cain wants to retire, they choose someone else to take over."

"He chose you," said Dean, astonished. "But how – what about the crew?"

"Well, Cain ordered his crew off his ship, and since no one could argue with him, it went unquestioned. He instructed me to wear all black, and after that, we took on an entirely new crew. Timothy stayed on as my first mate for a time, calling me Cain all the while. Soon everyone knew me as Cain, and Timothy chose to retire. I'm told that the real Cain has been retired 200 hundred years and living like a king in an alternate universe."

Dean took a moment to process all that information. It was a lot to digest, but in the end, only one part of it really mattered. "I'm glad you made it out, Cas. I'm glad you made it back to me."

Cas looked at him tenderly. "Of course."

* * *

As they had walked, Purgatory had grown more oppressive around them. Rustling from everywhere kept them on edge, and Dean wasn't sure if he'd rather just face some monsters and get it over with. Still, the hunter in Dean couldn't help but appreciate Purgatory. In a place with only monsters, no innocents could be caught in the crossfire. "It's not so bad," he said casually as they ambled through. "It's pure, you know?"

Cas gave him a concerned look. "I suppose," he said. "I'd rather not run into any Leviathan, though. The stories made them sound quite unpleasant."

"Leviathan? Cas, those aren't real. They're just –"

Predictably, Dean couldn't finish his sentence as the first of several Leviathan leaped out from behind a tree and attacked him.

Dean, though caught slightly unawares, had quick hunter reflexes that certainly served him here. He lunged almost automatically with his Demon blade and managed to shove it right into the gut of the nearest Leviathan. The humanoid creature didn't die, but it did fall hard and that gave Dean time to address the second monster.

This one was ugly as sin, a big male Leviathan, scabbed face and dark eyes. "Hello, human," it said. "Ready to die?"

Dean smirked. "Funny, I was about to ask you the same." Dean made another lunge as he had done with the first, but this Leviathan was quicker. It moved out of the way and around him, strong arms going to grip Dean in a headlock. Dean shoved his elbow into its ribs. The toothy bastard's grip lessened slightly but did not break. Its fangs were going for his throat but suddenly Cas's sword slid distressingly close to Dean's face. It bypassed him and found its proper target, slicing through the Leviathan's open mouth. It gave a nasty wail and Dean was just barely able to step aside to avoid it collapsing on top of him.

Dean was about to thank Cas but there wasn't time. Three more Leviathan jumped towards Castiel, at least one with a weapon. The former angel was able to knock two back with his sword, but the third managed to slash Cas across the chest and upper arm with a flailing dagger.

Dean jumped back into the fray, going for the one that had caused the injury. He grabbed ahold of him and swiped his own blade across its throat. It crumpled to the ground. Dean turned to continue assisting, but then there was a quick flash of steel. It was one grotesque thump after another as two heads quite literally rolled, and two detached bodies fell at their feet.

Cas was covered in the black goo of Leviathan blood, but he looked powerful, with his sword still in hand and eyes a blazing blue. A monster's worst nightmare for sure. Dean would have thought it was over, but all the dropped Leviathan were still moving, writhing. The one Dean had stabbed through the gut was even standing again, weaker but with wrath etched in every line of his face.

Cas noticed him at the same time Dean did. "I'll take care of that one," he said. "You finish the rest." He pulled off the bag on his shoulder and tossed it at Dean, who caught it. He shot him a questioning look. "Borax," Cas replied in answer, and the hunter understood immediately.

He rifled through the bag of supplies and quickly found a metallic can with a nozzle. Dean gave it a quick sniff to confirm and was not disappointed. Dean assessed the situation – Cas was going toe to toe with the gut-wound Leviathan and the others were writhing and limping towards Dean. _Help Cas first,_ he thought, and so he did. He ran towards the duel and gave the can's trigger a quick pump in the Leviathan's direction. The spray hit the monster's face just as it was going for Castiel's neck. It screamed as its skin began to burn, bubble, and melt away.

Dean turned away from the sickening sight and back to the others. Even the bodies of the ones that had been decapitated were still crawling towards their severed heads. Dean wasn't surprised – the lore said they could survive beheadings and put themselves back together like some nightmarish puzzle.

Dean hurried over to them and sprayed liquid over each monster, be it body or head or both. Those with the ability screamed bloody murder as their entire being dissolved horrifically, leaving behind clothes, bits of bone and not much else. Dean, experienced hunter though he was, still had to resist the urge to gag.

There was movement to his left, and he raised the Borax can automatically, but it was only Cas. He was a little pale. "You're bleeding," Dean said, eyeing Cas's injured chest and shoulder.

Castiel smiled slightly. "Just a flesh wound, Dean. All things considered, I'm pretty pleased we managed without worse. Do you still have some borax, though? We can never be too careful in here."

Dean shook the cannister to test it. He had used quite a bit but there was enough left to get them through in a pinch. He hoped it wouldn't be necessary, though.

"Come on, we should be nearly through Purgatory now. Our ship awaits."

As terrible luck would have it, they'd only gone a few more feet before something else went horribly wrong.

Cas was ahead of him when it happened; he stepped on what had appeared to be solid ground only to find that it was very much _not_ solid. It was undoubtedly a pocket of Lightning Sand – it was the stuff of Purgatory legend: hard to spot and with no substantial form, it was truly a suffocating sink pit. In the time it took for Dean to register what he was seeing, Cas was devoured by the chasm and completely out of sight.

"Cas! Cas-"

_"Hey boys, lunch time! Jack, are you feeling up to eating at the dining table? I made enough for Dad to join us."_

_Kelly Kline stood in the doorway of her son's bedroom. Jack's father turned to her with a kind smile. "Thank you, Kelly, I appreciate it."_

_Their son, however, was not as gracious. "Mom, Castiel just got swallowed by Lightning Sand! We can't have lunch now, I gotta find out what happens!"_

_"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying the book, sweetie, but it's lunchtime."_

_"You're mom is right, Jack," said his father firmly. "You need to eat, and I'm hungry too. I promise we can find out what happens to Cas and Dean right after that."_

_Jack sighed. "Okay."_

_The boy pushed away his blankets and stood up. Perhaps he did it too fast because his head spun a little and his legs felt as wobbly as jelly. His face paled and it did not go unnoticed by his parents. His father was there in an instant, putting a supportive hand on his arm. "Alright, kiddo?"_

_Jack nodded. The flu was certainly no fun._

_"Let's get some food in you," said his father, and with that, the man reached for his son and hoisted him up onto his shoulders. "I'll get you to the dining table pronto!"_

_Jack chuckled. "Dad, I'm too big for this," he said._

_In truth, Jack was not far wrong – pretty soon this wouldn't be an option for a growing boy. But Jack was small for his age, and there would only be fewer opportunities for this in the future. "Almost, Jack," his father replied. "But not yet. Your old man's still strong enough for this."_

_And so the family made their way to the dining room to enjoy lunch together, and the book that held the answers to Castiel and Dean's fate lay face down on Jack's bed, open and ready for when they returned._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oofta, that was a hard chapter. Lots of exposition and fighting - hopefully not too clunky and still enjoyable. Reviews always appreciated!


	10. Chapter 10

_Jack felt a lot better after eating, and he hurried back up the stairs to his room. His father followed behind, quite a bit slower, and Jack was already settled back onto his bed by the time he caught up. Jack was skimming the pages of the book, anxious to find out what happened to Castiel._

_"Hey now," his father said. "No skipping ahead."_

_Jack grinned, "Okay, well, come on, Dad." He pushed the book into his father's hands, and his dad raised an eyebrow._

_"I mean, please?"_

_His father grinned back and settled into his seat. "Alright, here we go."_

It only took a moment for Dean to get his head together. He looked around for anything available to anchor him. There was a tree close to what he assumed was the edge of the pit, and it looked sturdy enough, but there was no living vegetation on it. He hadn't noticed any rope in Cas's bag, either.

A metallic glint caught Dean's eye as he turned to what remained of the Leviathan bodies. A belt buckle. In an instant, Dean was stripping off his own belt and then that of the dead Leviathan. A quick inspection of the other corpses and he was able to scavenge three more belts and knot them together in a makeshift rope. He tied one end to the tree and one end to his own ankle. It would not be the easiest to maneuver, nor the safest, but he was banking on this arrangement giving him the longest reach. Even so, there would be little slack to spare.

How much time had passed? A minute? Two? How long could Cas hold his breath?

He found himself praying that every knot would hold. There was no time to double-check them; every second Castiel sank farther out of reach.

And with the barest of chances that they would both come out of this alive, Dean dove into the sand.

_Sand._ In his ears and nose, but his mouth and eyes were closed as tightly as possible to prevent it from getting in there too. This would be a blind's man journey, a matter primarily of luck, which had never been his friend. His open hands reached as far as they could go for anything solid.

Something hard in his reach, too hard. It cracked in his grip. Brittle. A bone, he knew it was the bone of someone long dead and buried. Dean dropped it and continued his blind search, attempting to swim through the immaterial sand.

The rope was pulling painfully on his ankle. His lungs were starting to strain. He was just about to lose hope but then, miraculously warm fingers gripped onto his wrist. He would have laughed with joy if he could have. Instead, he reached his other arm forward and wrapped it around what he assumed was Cas's waist. He contorted himself to grab hold of the rope while still gripping Cas tight. With a great heave, Dean managed to pull them upward.

Slowly but surely, inch by inch, Dean dragged them closer to the surface. It was getting even harder to breathe and he could barely imagine how Cas was getting along.

And just as he felt like he could go on no longer, just as the temptation to open his mouth for air that wasn't there became nearly overwhelming, he felt the crown of his head surface. Then his face was exposed. He gasped hungrily, but Cas was still below and there was no time to waste. He pulled and pulled and pulled, refusing to lose grip on the former angel in his arms or on the belts that were his lifeline.

Finally, Cas's face emerged, but there was no sudden desperate gasps, no intake of air.

_He's fine, he's fine, he's fine_ thought Dean. The hunter pulled them to the edge of the sand pit. He wrestled them both out and back onto the solid ground of Purgatory. Dean quickly freed himself from his makeshift rope and went to attend Cas. The former angel was covered in sand from head to toe, some densely packed in his dark hair. Dean felt for a pulse on his neck and was relieved to find a faint beat.

But he didn't seem to be breathing.

Dean settled over Cas and began his attempts to revive him. He pressed his hands on his chest and pumped steadily. "Breathe, Cas, come on," he said. "Breathe, dammit!"

It was less than a minute, but it felt like it had been an eternity when Castiel finally gasped and coughed aloud. It was a raspy, choking sound, dry as death, but Dean could not have been more thrilled to hear it.

Cas coughed some more, particles of sand expelling from his mouth.

Dean did his best to shake sand off of his own shirt sleeve. He pressed the somewhat cleaner fabric against Cas's lips, the corners of his eyes, and under his nose. He managed to wipe away some of the grit from those most problematic areas.

Castiel was still coughing, but he had opened his eyes. The expression he had was so tender as he allowed Dean to clean his face.

"Bag. Water," Cas croaked.

Dean shook himself. He had been overwhelmed, watching Cas come back from the brink, but the former angel needed him to keep his head. Dean found the bag and pulled out the waterskin. He handed it to Cas, who unscrewed the cap and splashed it over his face. While Cas worked on that, Dean gathered up the chain of belts and placed them in Cas's bag, just in case they'd come in handy again.

Cas took a swig from the waterskin. He choked slightly before managing to swallow some of it down. After that, he said, "Well, that was unpleasant."

He handed the waterskin to Dean, who also used it to clear some sand off of his own face.

When he looked back at Cas, Dean simply couldn't help it. A flood of relief encompassed him, and he pulled the former angel into a tight embrace. "Cas, I take back what I said about it not being so bad. It is pure - pure crap. Let's get out of here, alright?"

Cas patted the hunter's back comfortingly. The man who saved his life, the man he loved. "As you wish," he said.

They stood together, and Cas began to lead the rest of the way to the second rift.

They managed to make it to the gleaming portal with only one more altercation – an easily dispatched lone vampire.

When they arrived at the shimmering ripple, they shared a reassuring look. Castiel took Dean's hand, and they stepped through together.

Their world came back to them. The ocean was lapping against the rocky shore, the sea air smelled sharp and refreshing compared to the vaguely decomposing scent of Purgatory. The sun was rising and beginning to reflect beautifully off the water. Just down the shore, Castiel's ship was still anchored and swaying with the tide.

Cas and Dean noticed none of this, because directly in front of them stood Prince Chuck, The Count, and the rest of the Royal Guard.


	11. Chapter 11

"Release the hunter and prepare to face justice for his kidnapping," said Prince Chuck.

"Hello again, Prince Chuck," said Cas. His tone was pleasant, but his hand flexed over the handle of his sword. His blue eyes were simmering with a barely disguised rage.

Prince Chuck feigned surprise. "Castiel, is that really you? I thought Cain ripped you limb from limb years ago."

"He certainly tried," Cas said. "Didn't take."

Chuck, like Cas, was clearly suppressing his true feelings. The smile on his face was cold, his eyes empty of all regard. "Glad to hear it," he said. "But now, as I've said, you've been accused of kidnapping my betrothed. The sentence for such a crime is death, of course."

"No!" exclaimed Dean. "He saved me from the real kidnappers. He's a hero."

Chuck turned his gaze to Dean, his expression softening slightly. "I see. A misunderstanding! If that's the case, then I am indebted. He has returned you to me, and good timing too, with our wedding coming up so soon!"

Dean flushed, heat radiating from his neck to the tips of his ears. Cas raised his sword. "Didn't get the memo?" he challenged. "The wedding is off."

Count Azazel and the Royal Guards drew their own weapons. The Prince advanced menacingly on Castiel. He was a god. He needed no weapon.

Dean had the Demon Blade in his pocket, but he knew this would not end well. They were outnumbered, and with Chuck, very substantially out-powered as well.

He looked at Cas, and remembered with painful detail the three terrible years in which he thought him dead. Anything, anything at all, was better than facing that again.

"Promise not to hurt him," Dean said quietly, speaking directly to Chuck.

All eyes turned to Dean. "Excuse me?" asked Prince Chuck, at the same time Cas said, "Come again?"

"If you promise not to hurt him…if you return him safely to his ship and let him go…I will return with you. We can get married as planned."

"Dean. _Don't."_ It was a wretched voice, a broken one, and Dean could not bear to look at the pain he was causing Castiel. But this was how it had to be. He could sacrifice his own happiness for Cas's life. He could sacrifice anything for that.

Prince Chuck made a show of thinking it over. "Alright. I'd never wish to cause you distress, Dean. He will be returned to his ship and free to go as he pleases."

Dean nodded. He found he couldn't look at Cas to say goodbye. There was a lump in his throat.

Chuck pulled Count Azazel to the side, away from Dean and the rest of the guards. He spoke very quietly. "Take Castiel to The Pit for questioning. Keep him as long as you'd like."

"I swear it shall be done," The Count replied.

The Prince turned back to Dean and Castiel. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Farewell, then," he said to Cas. "The Count and Guards will stay and see you safely to your ship."

With nothing more than a snap of his finger, Chuck and Dean were gone.

Cas fought the anguish building in his chest, and instead turned to the matter at hand – Count Azazel. His yellow eyes glowed ominously, and Cas tilted his head. "I know someone who'd very much like to meet you," Cas told him.

"It would be my pleasure," said The Count. "But right now, we must get you back to your ship." Even as he said this, the Royal Guards were closing in a circle around Castiel. Most still had their swords at the ready.

Cas sighed. "As a supposedly renounced demon and a fallen angel, we are beyond human subterfuge, don't you agree?" asked Cas. "Lies do not become us."

Count Azazel scowled. He caught the eye of the Guard directly behind Cas, and before the former angel could even turn, he felt the blow directly to the back of his skull. He crashed to the ground, sight and mind going dark all at once.


	12. Chapter 12

Prince Chuck had used his powers to zap them all the way back to the castle. They were now in Prince Chuck's study. There was Chuck's desk, messy as always. The chandelier above them cast ominous shadows on the walls, and nothing about the room gave Dean any sense of warmth. This castle had never felt like home, and now, knowing that Cas was still out there somewhere without Dean – well, it never could be.

Chuck placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's alright, Dean. In just a few days, we will be married and we can put all this unpleasantness behind us."

Dean felt his stomach twist. He shook off Chuck's hand and made his way back to his bedroom. He tried not to think of Cas, but it was at least a small comfort to know that he was alive and that Dean's sacrifice would keep him so.

Unbeknownst to Dean, Count Azazel had whisked Castiel's unconscious body down into his underground dungeon. Count Azazel had always been a man of great curiosity and science, but had very limited interests - and one in particular was dearest to his cold heart.

The study of pain.

Pain could do wondrous things to humans, angels, and demons alike. The Count loved to test the tolerance of his subjects, and had worked long days and nights in an effort to perfect pain-inducing methods.

Some might call it torture.

Azazel liked to call it research.

He was so extremely grateful that Prince Chuck never saw fit to hinder his work, and even utilized it on several occasions.

Like now. Chuck wanted this fallen angel - this Castiel - questioned and punished. Azazel was more than happy to oblige.

Azazel laid Cas down on a table within the dungeon. He secured his arms and legs with restraints.

"Kevin? Kevin, where are you?"

A shuffle from the shadowy corner of the room, and the young man named Kevin emerged. He was pale and of slight build. He bowed his head so as not to make eye contact with Azazel.

"Yes, Count?"

The Count smiled twistedly at his servant. "Kevin, we have a new subject. I'd like to you to dress his wounds so that he will be ready for The Machine later."

Kevin nodded. "Of course, sir," he said, hating himself. It had been a cruel twist of fate that had landed him as servant to The Count, and he despised every minute of it. He longed for the day when he could make an escape, but he dared not while The Count lived. He had little chance of overpowering him.

So for now, Kevin would do as he was told. His eyes strayed to the man on the table. Despite the injuries to his chest and arm, he looked strong. But Kevin knew he would not be strong enough to endure what was coming, and pitied him.

"I will be back in a few hours, Kevin. Have everything prepared by then."

The Count turned, headed up the stairs and exited, leaving Kevin to his unpleasant work.

The young man went and retrieved a towel and a small vial of diluted angel grace. He set to unbuttoning the man's shirt to have better access to his wounds. He soaked the corner of the towel in the grace and began dabbing at the torn skin.

With a great intake of breath, the man regained consciousness.

His hands and legs tugged within his restraints, but the leather straps did not give way. His eyes found Kevin's face. "Where am I? And who are you?"

Kevin didn't make it a habit to talk to the subjects - it was too painful to know them - but for some reason, he could not resist this time.

"You're in The Count's secret underground lab. They call it The Pit. And I - I am no one."

Something in the man's eyes softened in Kevin's direction.

"Not to me," he said quietly. "My name's Castiel, if it helps."

It didn't really, but the name seemed familiar for some reason. He sighed. "I'm Kevin," he said, continuing to dab at Castiel's wounds, which immediately began to heal at the touch of diluted grace.

"Well, Kevin. If I'm a prisoner, why are you healing me?"

Kevin clammed up immediately.

"Torture?"

Kevin wouldn't look at him. He put the cork back in the vial of grace.

"I can handle torture," Cas said, more to himself than anyone.

Again, Kevin couldn't help himself. "No," he said sadly. "You can't."

* * *

Dean was trying his damndest to make it work with Prince Chuck, despite the fact that all thought of the wedding made his stomach churn.

He took comfort once again in Baby, brushing her coat and petting her sweet, trusting head. He loved that horse, and even more so now that it was his last connection to his father (whom he had not been able to see since the engagement), and of course, to Cas.

He wished with all his heart that they could go back to those simple times - Cas the doting farmhand and himself as the somewhat oblivious boy that had fallen in love with him.

And then the day of the wedding dawned, bright and sunny. The ceremony was a hazy blur, but just like that, Dean and Chuck were married.

The -

_"Wait, what?" exclaimed Jack, interrupting his father. His eyes were bright and anxious, angry patches of red on his small cheeks. "Dad, you read that wrong!"_

_His father frowned at him. "I don't believe I did," he replied, scanning the book as if to make sure._

_"But, Dad. Dean can't have married Chuck. He just couldn't have. He needs to be with Cas!"_

_His father smiled softly. "Jack, I know you're invested, but I promise you - It says right here, 'Dean and Chuck were married'. But I think we should keep reading and find out what happens next, right?"_

_Jack nodded, but mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'dumb book,' under his breath._

_His father ignored him, and found his place on the page once again._

"The castle courtyard was filled to burst with Heaven's citizens, all waiting to catch a glimpse of the newly wed royal couple.

Prince Chuck and Dean stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard, still dressed in their fancy wedding attire.

The crowd clapped and cheered loudly. Except one man near the front of the crowd. Instead, the older man booed and jeered at them with a raised fist, anger in his eyes. The Prince took notice at the same time Dean did. "Arrest that man," he said to the guards.

"No," said Dean. "Send me. Let me speak to him and find out what's going on."

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Very well, Dean," he said. Chuck snapped his fingers, and suddenly Dean was down below among the crowd, and standing right in front of the booing man.

Up close, Dean could see the grizzled and gruff look of the man. He had a beard and strange hat that none the less suited him. He raised a gnarled finger in Dean's direction and booed at him again.

"What's your problem?" Dean asked him.

The man's eyes were alive with malice. "Like you don't know, you idjit! Not a lick of sense, and yet you're supposed to lead us? You're no better than the monsters you hunt. Your true love lives and you spit in his face!"

"No," said Dean.

The man yelled out to the crowd. "This man had love come back to him, and he let him go again! Pushed him away, left him to die -"

"No! No, Chuck would have killed him, but I saved him! I had to save him!" Dean yelled back. He grabbed the man by the scruff of his shirt.

"Funny way of saving someone," snarled the man. "You let him go! Better to have stabbed him with an Angel Blade through the heart, you ass." Then he laughed cruelly at Dean.

"No...no..."

"No!" Dean woke up yelling. The wedding was still two days away. His heart was hammering in his chest, loud as thunder. Cas. He let him go. He let him go.

Dean shot out of bed and hurried to the study, where he knew Prince Chuck was likely to be.

_"It was just a dream," remarked Jack excitedly. "See, I told you Dean would never marry that rotten Chuck!"_

_"Yes, yes, you're very smart. Now be quiet so I can read."_

Sure enough, Chuck was there writing away at his latest story.

"I can't marry you," Dean said without preamble. "I belong with Castiel. And if you say I must marry you - well, I don't intend to live without him."

Chuck looked up from his writing. "I've never intended to force you into anything, Dean. You have free will, after all."

Dean waited. He knew there was a 'but' coming on. Sure enough -

"But have you ever considered that Castiel may not want you now? You were a bit cold to him when we left, after he fought so hard for you. You didn't even say goodbye."

Dean swallowed away the ache in his throat. _You let him go, you let him go, you let him go_ played as a terrible mantra in his head. "He will come back for me," Dean said, with more certainty than he felt.

Chuck nodded. "I'll tell you what, Dean. Write four copies of a letter to Castiel, and I will send it out on my four fastest ships in order to reach him. If he chooses, he can return for you and I will not hold it against either of you. You can be together."

Dean could hardly believe it. "You'd do that for me?"

"I know you don't love me, Dean, and I've never asked for it. But I've grown fond of you and want your happiness. But - if Castiel does not return- will you please consider me as an alternative to suicide? I still need someone by my side to run this kingdom and would be glad to have you."

Dean swallowed. He didn't want to entertain the idea that Cas might not come for him. "Okay," said Dean. "If he - I'll write the letters."

Chuck smiled. "Good."

Dean left, and when he did, Chuck's smile fell and was replaced by an ugly look indeed.


	13. Chapter 13

Since there were rumors that another attempt might be made on Dean's life, Chuck had ordered that all the lowlifes from the Thieves' Forest be rounded up and held until the wedding was over.

A brute squad had been formed, and they were incredibly efficient at clearing out the village. But none of them were strong enough or brave enough to take on the giant.

The large man sat outside the local pub, a tankard of mead in one hand and his sword flashing carelessly in the other. He was slurring his words and yet still amazingly spry whenever anyone from the brute squad tried to approach.

"I won't move!" Sam shouted, to no one in particular. "I am waiting for Crowley," he said. "If we got separated the pl-plan was to return here. Crowley will come and I'm not l-leaving til then."

A shadow passed over Sam. He readied his sword arm for another fight. And then the familiar voice swept over him, like a low sweet song.

"Brother, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

Sam was seeing double, but the man was still a welcome sight.

"Benny," he said.

"Aye," said Benny. The vampire reached down and attempted to heave Sam to his feet. It would have been impossible had Sam not become compliant, but Benny's presence had relaxed him. He stood up on shaky legs.

"Where is Crowley?"

"Crowley's dead."

Sam's stomach dropped to his feet, and his vision went hazy again. They had a deal. They had a deal! He would do this awful work and start this war between Heaven and Hell, and in return Crowley would help him track down the yellow-eyed man. Now there was no hope, none at all.

Except.

The man who bested Crowley. Who had bested them all. He could find the yellow-eyed man, Sam was sure of it.

"What happened to The Man in Black?"

"There are rumors among the brute squad that Prince Chuck took a captive to a secret lab. It could only be him."

"Then we must find him."

"Alright," said Benny. He wasn't honestly sure what to do with himself now that Crowley was gone, but sticking by Sam was the only thing that made sense to him. "But let's get you sobered up first, huh?"

Sam thought that was a pretty good idea, especially when he tried to take a step and nearly toppled over, only to be steadied by his best and only friend.

* * *

Castiel had spent nearly an hour attempting to convince Kevin to free him, but the young man had shut down completely. In fact, he abandoned him to go to some other part of the dungeon, where he could no longer listen to Cas's appeals.

Cas pulled at the restraints to no avail, and before he knew it, the door to the dungeon was opening and briefly swathing him in light from outside.

Count Azazel was back, yellow-eyes flashing over Cas's body. "Kevin healed you well, I see."

Cas said nothing. It was one thing to plead with Kevin, but he knew there was no mercy to be had from this demon. There was nothing to be said, and he would have to endure whatever torture was coming until he either escaped or died.

The Count wheeled over a strange looking machine from the corner of the dungeon. It was connected to a pulley system, had many gears, and several wires coming out of it, which ended in little suction cups.

"This is my finest work," said Count Azazel. "It is the greatest instrument of pain known to man, angel, or demon. It will burn your insides and for every twist of this dial -" he pointed to a knob with numbers etched around it, "you will lose a year of your life. We'll start slow though, shall we? Prince Chuck has informed me that he doesn't want this to be quick in any way."

Azazel began applying the suction cups to various parts of Cas's body, including his temples, his chest, and one on each wrist.

Cas was a bit nervous, but not abundantly so. He was confident he could endure whatever this machine was because he had his secret. It was something he had discovered back when Cain had tortured him (before the demon had found a soft spot for him). It was easy to endure torture when you could take your mind away. And the best way to take his mind away was to think of Dean.

It had saved him several times over.

All he had to do was imagine Dean with perfect clarity. From his eyes to his freckles to his smile. To the soft skin of his cheek, the slope of jaw, the tattoo on his chest. His lips, soft and supple.

So when Count Azazel turned on the machine, Cas simply took his mind away to Dean. He thought of the endless green of his eyes. He thought of his hands, scarred but steady and the warmth of him and -

Cas screamed. His very cells really did feel as if they were on fire.

No. No. Dean's face swam in his mind, as vivid as -

It was hell, it was unbearable, it was the worst pain he'd ever known. It was pressure and heat and sharp as a knife to his every nerve, every organ, every atom of his being.

The Count turned the dial down. The whirring of the machine stopped, though the pain did not. It lingered within his skin, spiking strangely in his veins before fading to a duller ache all over his body.

"That was level one," said Azazel. "I may one day go as high as five, but I'm not entirely sure what it might do to you. So now, if you could rate your pain for me? Don't be shy."

Cas could only whimper.

The Count produced a piece of parchment and pen from his pocket and marked down a note. "Very good," he said.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay, I've finally caught up to myself writing-wise. I do have enough ideas for the rest of the story though, so hopefully I can keep up some momentum. Thanks as always for reading!

There was a section of the castle in which Dean had never stepped foot. In fact, he had no idea that the lower chamber existed, or that Queen Amara herself was held captive there. For more than three years, she had been her brother's prisoner, her powers bound by an ancient spell.

From what Chuck had gloated to her in his monotonous monologues over the years, it was clear that he had duped the entirety of Heaven. He had corrupted the Great Council and many of her Royal Guard, and lied to the rest. Even the common folk believed that the Queen was still in charge, yet too sickly to make public appearances. The queen had, he told them, appointed Prince Chuck to speak on her behalf.

_Such lies._

It was a hard pill to swallow, she thought. Not that her brother would stoop so low - he had always been a rat - but that no one had bothered to look for her. Had she been that bad a Queen that she had simply not been missed? The angels had always been Chuck's lot, so she wasn't surprised they obeyed him without question. The mortals knew less than nothing about the politics of the kingdom. But the demons? She had always been fair to them and had let them run Hell as they saw fit. She knew that balance needed to be maintained, unlike her brother, who sought wars for his own amusement. But not one demon, nor witch, or even a lowly vampire had ever sought to save her.

If only she had some ally, even just one, she was sure she could break the binding spell and set things right.

* * *

Dean finished writing his letters to Cas. They all said the same thing – that he was sorry, that they should have fought to be together, and that it was his biggest regret. He promised he would never let Cas go again if only he returned. _I need you, Cas, and I love you more than I can say,_ the letter had finished. He only hoped it would reach the former angel in time.

The hunter went off to find Prince Chuck to give him the letters, but he wasn't in his study. His desk was as messy as ever, parchment scattered around and blotches of ink staining the wood. Dean was grateful that Chuck had not asked him to read any of his work lately, but now that he was alone in the room, he felt his curiosity spike. What did a god find worth writing about these days?

Dean skimmed the top sheet and Castiel's name suddenly jumped out at him.

What the - ?

Chuck was writing about Cas? _Why?_

The more he read, the sicker Dean felt.

He read about Cas being tortured in some place called The Pit.

He read about how Prince Chuck himself had contracted Crowley, and how Dean had been intended to die as a result of the kidnapping, with Hell to blame for it. It was framed as fiction, but it was so clearly true that Dean's head spun trying to adjust to this knowledge.

Rage flooded his heart, but he fought it off. Chuck was smarter than Dean had ever given him credit for, and confronting him about all this would only end with Dean dead. He needed a plan. He needed to find Cas and rescue him. Then perhaps they could figure out a way to escape together, although he had no idea where they could go that might be out of the prince's reach.

He needed info, and what better source than the monster's own words?

Dean quickly rolled up all the parchment and notes he could find and stuffed them into his inner coat pocket. He would take them and read every line, learn all of Chuck's dirty secrets, and then perhaps he would have an answer on how to save himself and Cas.

He would have to hurry, though. Chuck would notice the missing story soon enough and might very well figure out Dean's intentions.

Dean left the study and hurried out to the Royal Stables, where Chuck rarely went due to his hatred of the animal smells. Dean could probably read there in peace for hours, and he prayed that would be enough time to find something.

_Don't worry, Cas,_ he thought as he made his way stealthily across the courtyard. _I'm coming for you._


	15. Chapter 15

The more Prince Chuck thought about his current situation, the more furious he became. Crowley was supposed to murder Dean, Hell would be to blame, war would break out, and the ensuing events would be great fodder for his stories. The clash of angels and demons, my, just think of the drama!

But Crowley had failed, and now Dean wanted to leave him for Castiel.

Once upon a time, the fallen angel had been as dutiful as any of his kind. But the love he had for humanity had cost him, and now his stupid, precious, profound love for Dean Winchester was going to cost him again. This was Chuck's game, and he no longer felt like playing with a wild card in the deck.

When the Prince walked into Azazel's secret dungeon, the Count was allowing Castiel a brief recovery from the torture, though it hardly felt that way to Cas. His whole body was in pain beyond anything he'd ever known. His insides felt like fire, his bones felt heavy, his skin felt torn to shreds - but no physical damage could be seen on his body.

The Count looked up at the Prince's arrival, while the shadow that was Kevin sunk further back into the corner. "Ah, your Highness. I didn't expect you to join us so soon. I've hardly had time to break him in," he said, nodding in Castiel's direction.

A muscle in Chuck's cheek twitched. "Ah, sorry, Azazel, old friend. There's been a change of plans. I must finish this now."

The Count's yellow eyes flashed with annoyance. "But it was just getting good."

Chuck ignored him and strolled over to the table where Cas lay, still wired to the Machine.

Their eyes met, one pair shining dangerously and the other resigned.

"Listen, Castiel," said Chuck, sounding almost regretful. "It's not personal, alright? You just don't fit with what I'm trying to accomplish. What you and Dean have together, that love? It's the stuff of storybooks, the stuff of happily ever after."

Prince Chuck reached for the dial of the Machine. "But I don't _write_ happy endings. Goodbye, Castiel." And with that, he turned the dial as far as it would go.

"Not to fifty!" yelled The Count, but it was too late.

Pain flooded Cas's body, tore through every inch of his being. It took only a moment before he was blind from the agony, vision going white and empty. His ear drums felt as though they would soon burst. Despite the leather gag in his mouth, he managed to scream, a deep keening noise. Like a wild animal, a sound of death, loud and visceral. The sound carried through the dungeon, through the surrounding forest, even through the courtyard of the castle. It sent shivers down the spines of those that heard it. Mothers urged their children indoors at the sound. Small animals ran for cover. Leaves themselves seemed to tremble on the trees.

* * *

To Benny the vampire, it was as loud as a bell clanging against his head. He and Sam were together in the forest, searching for the alleged secret dungeon. Benny put his hands over his ears to drown out the noise, and was surprised when Sam did not do the same. Instead, his large friend closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, as though concentrating with every part of himself.

The wailing went on for maybe ten seconds, and then it was gone as suddenly as it had come, leaving a sharp silence in its place.

"What the hell was that? Made my skin crawl," drawled Benny.

Sam opened his eyes, tears clinging to his eyelashes but refusing to fall. "That was The Man in Black," he said.

Benny was startled, not in the least because he'd never seen Sam cry before. He laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "But – how do you know?"

"That sound. I made that sound when the yellow-eyed man killed my mother. It's pain, Benny. It's suffering. Prince Chuck plans to marry The Man in Black's true love tomorrow. Who else has such cause for pain? It's the sound of a broken heart."

Now, Benny wasn't inclined to agree. It sounded much more like the sound of someone's body being broken to bits, or pulled apart, or set aflame, maybe. But he also trusted Sam's instincts.

"Well, if that's the case," Benny said slowly, "then we need to go that way." He tilted his chin towards their left, through the overgrown trees.

Sam nodded and clutched reflexively at the hilt of his sword. He let Benny lead the way.

_Almost, Mom, almost,_ Sam thought.


	16. Chapter 16

Count Azazel had hurried to turn off The Machine, hoping to salvage what was left of his subject, but it was no use.

Prince Chuck smiled with satisfaction. Castiel lay dead upon the table.

_"Wait, what?" interrupted Jack._

_The young boy was sitting up straight in his bed, watery eyes focused only on his father. "That can't be right, Dad. It's a dream again, isn't it?"_

_His dad looked at him with tenderness and concern. He placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't mean to get you all worked up over this story. I didn't think –"_

_Jack bit his trembling lip. He felt like a crybaby, but this hurt. Fictional or not. He liked Cas, and he didn't want Dean to be alone again, and how could it possibly end like that? Jack was very aware of his father watching him, so he hurriedly shoved a hand against his eyes to dry them. "I'm fine," he said gruffly. "But what's going to happen to Dean? Is he able to kill Chuck? Or maybe Sam the Giant does? Someone has to get Chuck!"_

_"Jack, I could tell you, but would you rather I continue reading?"_

_The boy closed his eyes. He looked even younger than ten and felt younger too. "It's not fair," he said._

_"Life usually isn't, kiddo," his father replied, ruffling Jack's hair. "And it's okay if you want to stop, alright? I don't mind."_

_"No! I want to hear it, Dad. I need to!"_

_"Okay, Jack."_

_And so, his father started to read again, though his eyes flicked apprehensively from his son to the page, making sure his boy was okay._

Count Azazel was rather annoyed. "Well, so much for that," he said, starting to remove the restraints from the fomer angel's body.

"What's done is done," said Chuck. "It's a good enough ending for him."

He departed, and Count Azazel turned to Kevin. "Dispose of the body," he commanded, before he too left the dungeon in an angry huff.

Kevin had had to close his eyes and ears when Castiel died, and yet he was still sure that it would haunt him until his own dying day. Now, though, he was slightly more relaxed if only because he was alone. He had the unsavory task of building a funeral pyre ahead of him, but at least it would be a distraction.

And still, the familiarity of the name Castiel was really starting to bother him. Where had he heard it before?

Kevin went to grab the wheelbarrow from outside the secret entrance to the dungeon. The building was camouflaged behind a glamour of trees of the forest, but the spell had been fading as a of late. Soon enough they would need another witch to recast the glamour, but Prince Chuck didn't seem to be in any hurry to find one. Anyone who strayed this far rarely lived to tell the tale, anyway.

The spell was especially glitchy when people exited or entered. Had he been in his right mind, he probably would have been more cautious when stepping out the door, but as it was, he was not. He stepped out right into the path of a giant and a vampire, the 'scenery' behind him flickering to expose the truth of the building for all to see.

"Oh, crap," said Kevin, just as the giant grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt.

"We're here for The Man in Black," he said. "If you don't want trouble, you will lead us to him."

At that, the vampire took a moment to show off his fangs in an intimidating snarl.

He needn't have bothered, Kevin had absolutely no intention of tangling with even the giant, let alone a bloodthirsty vamp.

"Okay," Kevin agreed with a nod.

The giant released him, though he kept his hand close to the sword at his side. Kevin turned around and opened the dungeon door, which was still glitching in and out of phase. "I have to warn you though," said Kevin. "Castiel – The Man in Black – is dead."

Sam swore under his breath. The truth of it quickly became clear as they descended the steps to the table with Castiel's body. Sam checked his pulse, he checked for breath, for any sign of life. There was nothing.

The sinking feeling was back. "The Prince killed him?" Sam asked quietly.

"Yes," Kevin answered.

The vampire gave him a sad look. "I'm sorry, Sam. We will find another way."

"No, Benny. I _need_ him. It's not going to end this way."

"He's dead."

"I know, I know!" Sam was pacing now, fists clenched. He turned suddenly on his heel, staring right at Kevin. "Who put the glamour on this building? Certain magic may be able to save a man from death. What we need is a witch, a powerful one."

Benny jumped in before Kevin could answer. "I hate to say it, Sam, but that spell-work seems kind of shoddy to me. Not sure the person who cast it should be playing with life and death."

Kevin shook his head. "The witch _is_ powerful. The only thing wrong with the spell is that it's supposed to be temporary and recast every so often. It's held this much for years longer than normal _because_ of how strong she is."

"Tell me who she is and where I can find her. Now."

Once again, Kevin found no will to disobey the giant, who looked almost unhinged with urgency. "It's the Queen's old Remedy Woman," he said. "She lives in a crappy little shack not far from here. If you follow the river to the east, you'll end up right at it."

The fire in Sam's eyes burned hot and then turned into a beaming grin. The difference it made to his face was remarkable; he now looked more like an overgrown puppy. Without warning, he threw his arms around Kevin in a bone-crushing hug.

Benny laughed as Kevin tried to squirm out of it.

"Take it easy, brother," said the vampire, and Sam relinquished his hold on the startled Kevin.

"Thank you," said Sam sincerely. "Thank you so much. If this works out, I owe you one. Actually, even if it doesn't, alright? What's your name, anyway?"

Kevin stood straight and proud. Something about these two gave him confidence, gave him hope. "Kevin Tran. My name is Kevin Tran."

"I owe you, Kevin Tran."

With that, Sam lifted Castiel's body up from the table using his powerful arms. "We're going to take the wheelbarrow outside, if you don't mind."

Kevin shrugged. "Go ahead."

Sam and Benny nodded their goodbyes, and Sam once more said, "We will repay you, Kevin. When I have finished my business, I will return here and you can count on me for whatever you need."

 _Count Azazel dead would be nice,_ thought Kevin, but he didn't say it. He almost wanted to join them, but he was sure their mission would be dangerous, and he didn't know if he was quite ready for that. But maybe someday. With no more delay than that, the two left the dungeon, carrying the body of Castiel with them.

Castiel.

Castiel.

Again, there was the stirring of recognition.

On a hunch, Kevin walked over to one of the cabinets that was pressed up against the back wall. Unlike the others that held various torture devices, this cabinet was special. It held the angel grace that they sometimes used to heal captives for prolonged sessions.

Kevin unlocked the cabinet and opened the door. Inside, there were vials upon vials of angel grace. The grace itself shimmered blue, looking somewhere between liquid and gas, intangible and bright. The specimens were from many a fallen or deceased angel, collected over time by The Prince and The Count. Each was labeled with a name.

Kevin scanned through them. He'd never given much thought to these lost angels, but now he did. He wondered about the stories of each angel – what had caused their fall? What heroics or despicable deeds had they performed? What tragedies had befallen them before their own demise?

It didn't take long before Kevin found it. Near the back, on the third highest shelf, stood a vial. It was full to the brim with effervescent, swirling grace. It had never been diluted or used for healing, at least not yet. Written in small cursive letters: Castiel.

Kevin felt a jolt in his gut. He had assumed The Man in Black to be human and hadn't dreamed he was one of the fallen angels whose grace was stored right in this very dungeon.

Kevin picked up the vial. It was warm to the touch and his head spun a little as a powerful sensation washed over him. It wasn't unusual for grace to affect humans at close range, but none of the ones that Kevin had ever handled gave off a feeling as strong as this. He looked around the dungeon to ensure he was alone, and then, without knowing exactly why or what he planned to do next, Kevin slipped the vial of Castiel's grace into his pocket.


	17. Chapter 17

Following the river with the wheelbarrow and its cargo was difficult, but Benny and Sam managed pretty well, occasionally taking detours over less rocky terrain as needed. Luckily, they had not run into anyone along the way and had thus avoided any prying questions about the body.

Night had finally fallen just as they arrived at what could only be described as a 'crappy shack.' The vampire and the giant stared at it. It was falling apart. The windows were shuttered and part of the roof seemed to be collapsing. There were spiderwebs on the eaves. It looked very much like no one had used it in some time, except for the fact that smoke was rising from the chimney.

"Well, here goes nothing," said Sam. With that, he stepped up to the door and knocked. Some of the rotting wood fell away against his knuckles.

A sliding peephole opened and a woman's eyes were clearly visible. They were sharp, intelligent, and sparkling. Sam's first thought was that this was not someone to be messed with.

"I'm not buying anything," said the woman through the door. "So you can go away."

"Not here to sell," replied Sam. "We need a witch, and we heard that the Remedy woman that lives here is the best."

"Heard wrong, my dear. Didn't you know that Remedy Rowena is out of business? The Queen's brother fired me."

"We don't care."

That seemed to spark interest in the witch. "Really? What if I'm terrible at magic? What if I killed whoever you wanted me to remedy?"

"He's already dead," added Benny helpfully. Her eyes flitted to the vampire and then back to Sam, lingering over his long legs, his broad chest, and his muscular arms.

"Well, I'll take a look," she said finally.

Rowena opened the door. The group made perfunctory introductions, and then Sam reached into the wheelbarrow and hoisted Castiel's prone form into his arms. When they entered the shack, both Sam and Benny were shocked to see the outer appearance was entirely misleading. The interior was practically regal and appeared much larger on the inside than out. There was a grand staircase to the left, a marble statue of what appeared to be the witch herself, and a magnificent chandelier hanging above their heads.

"Well, I'll be damned," said Benny, gazing around the sitting room in wonder.

"What, did you really expect me to slum it just because I'm out of work? I have _needs_ ," she said.

"Sure," said Sam quickly, "But also, can you tell me what do with him?" It wasn't so much that Castiel was heavy to someone like Sam, but he really wanted to get on with what they had come here for.

The red-headed witch rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine," she said. "Take him down the stairs. I have a work table down there."

Sam nodded and lead the way down the stairs to his left, Benny and Rowena following behind him. The new room was laden with cabinets and bookshelves, most of which were stocked with aged spellbooks. The décor down here looked a lot more practical than the fancy upstairs furniture.

Sam placed Castiel gently on the table in the center of the room.

Benny shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He could feel the energy of the place, and while nothing seemed sinister, magical resonance had always made him uneasy. This was clearly the room in which Remedy Rowena worked spells of all kinds.

The witch approached Castiel's body. She laid an ear against his chest. She lifted his eyelids and peered into the lifeless blue orbs. Then she looked from Benny to Sam. "So, what's so important that you need to bring him back for, anyway?" she asked.

"I need him to help me avenge the murder of my mother," said Sam.

Rowena narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You're a terrible liar," she said. "Did he lose a bet to you? He owes you money, doesn't he?"

"No," said Sam with annoyance. "I wasn't lying. I need his help to find and kill a man!"

Rowena clearly wasn't sold. "I'll just ask him, dear," she said.

"But, he's dead," replied Benny.

Rowena turned a glare on him. "Ugh, you vampires think you know everything. Like you alone know the dead and undead? Why come to a witch then if you've got it all figured out?"

Benny grimaced but held back a sour retort for Sam's sake. The witch seemed just a little too pleased with herself for shutting him up, but if she could help them, he'd deal with it.

"In any case," she continued, "he's only mostly dead. Which means he's partly alive."

Rowena shuffled around the room and pulled out a large bellows from one of the cabinets. She pressed the nozzle into Castiel's mouth and pushed down so that the accordion base compressed on itself. Castiel's chest rose as his lungs expanded with air.

She pulled the bellows away, then leaned in to speak directly into Castiel's ear. "What's so important, handsome? What about this rotten world is so worth sticking around for?"

She pressed lightly on his chest. Miraculously, the sound that escaped his mouth sounded like the words, "true love."

"True love!" Sam exclaimed. "Won't you help us for the noble cause of love?"

"Love? _He_ wants to be alive for love, _you_ want him alive for vengeance. Not exactly on the same page, are you?"

Sam was getting frustrated. "Will you help us or not?"

"Oh, certainly. For a price," she said. "Ten thousand and I'll have him rarin' to go."

"We…we don't have anything close to that."

There were footsteps on the stairs and they all turned to look. A second red-headed woman had appeared, but that was where the similarities seemed to end. Where Rowena was intimidating, this new person had an easy smile lighting up their face.

"Rowena, you didn't tell me we had company!" she said cheerfully.

"Charlie, can't you see I'm busy?"

Benny had sudden inspiration. "Hey, are you a witch too?" he asked. "We're trying to get our friend here back to life, but we can't afford the ten thousand. Any chance you'd do it for cheaper?"

"She's not a witch, she's my –" Rowena couldn't seem to finish the sentence. There was suddenly awkward tension in the room. Charlie had narrowed her eyes.

"Your wife?" Sam suggested at the same time Benny said, "Your roommate?"

"Best not get into it, lads," said Rowena at the same time Charlie said, "It's complicated."

Sam and Benny shared a look. What domestic drama had they walked in on?

"Anywho!" said Rowena, quickly trying to change the subject. "Charlie is _not_ a witch. Ten thousand it is."

"Rowena!" Charlie exclaimed. "Ten thousand? You could do that resurrection spell in your sleep!"

"Hush, woman! I am _trying_ to keep us comfortable!"

Charlie scowled at the witch. "Rowena, we don't need to scam people. Couldn't you please do the decent thing for once?"

"Decent! I was decent to the Royal family for my whole life. I worshipped the ground the Queen stood upon, and look where that got me! Fired by her swine of a brother!"

"Wait," said Benny. "Rowena, would you say you have a score to settle with Prince Chuck?"

Rowena rolled her eyes. "Yes, but I'm not taking on a god. Are you mad?"

Benny nodded at Castiel's body. "This man we have here – he was killed by Chuck, and his true love is still arranged to marry him. If you bring him back…well, I wouldn't bet against him making Chuck pay."

Rowena raised an eyebrow. "I bring him back, Chuck suffers?"

Sam jumped into the conversation. "Humiliation, at the very least. Death, quite possibly."

Rowena grinned. "Now _that_ is worthy of my time."

Charlie rolled her eyes at them, but they could tell she was pleased at the change of heart.

Rowena set immediately to work. She began to gather materials from around the room. She pulled some ingredients from the cabinets and brought them to a small cauldron in the corner. She mixed everything together and with a twitch of her hand, she lit a small flame beneath it. A haze of purple smoke rose from the newly simmering concoction.

Sam was a bit entranced at everything she was doing. He couldn't help but feel that he should have studied more about magic with his Uncle Bobby, in addition to mastering the sword. This kind of thing could certainly come in handy.

Rowena delicately opened Castiel's shirt, then scooped up a ladle full of her potion.

"Open his mouth, please," she told Sam, who quickly obeyed and pried Castiel's stiff jaw apart.

She dribbled some potion into his open mouth, then set the ladle aside. She placed a hand on his bare chest. "Stand back, boys," she said, so they did.

Rowena began to chant in a language even Sam didn't recognize, although it did seem to utilize a few Enochian words.

Suddenly, the witch's hand began to glow on Cas's chest, radiating heat and light and – hopefully – life.

Rowena's voice got raspy and deep, a shudder ran through her body, and her eyes rolled up into the back of her head. Sam was worried for a moment, but he glanced at Charlie, who didn't seem the least bit concerned. How often did they do this sort of thing?

And then it was done.

Rowena's hand stopped glowing and her eyes refocused as she finished the chant. Castiel's chest glowed with a handprint for a moment longer, but that too faded away to normal.

And then, miraculously, Sam saw Castiel's chest rise as he took a breath on his own.

Rowena gave him and Benny a satisfied smile. "It is done," she said. "However, his body needs rest. In about twelve hours, he will awaken, but will have next to no mobility. Within a few hours after that, he should be able to walk on his own."

"Twelve hours?" asked Sam with some dismay. "I was hoping this would be immediate. We need to make a plan of attack."

"Immediate!" glowered Rowena. "You rush a miracle, you get rotten miracles! I just brought a man back for you for free no less, you ungrateful –"

Sam threw his hands up defensively. "Okay, I'm sorry! It's just, there's a lot riding on this."

Rowena softened slightly. "I know, deary. I suggest you lot lay low for awhile, perhaps camp out somewh—"

"Or stay with us!" interjected Charlie. "It'll be nice to have some other company. You know, Rowena has been sulking since the Prince fired her, but you guys really liven the place up. Well, except him, I guess," she said, nodding awkwardly to Castiel's sleeping form.

Rowena scowled. "I do not sulk."

Charlie ignored her. "Come on," she said, waving them back up the stairs. "I'll make you boys some tea."

Benny and Sam shared a look. It had been a long time since they were treated with such hospitality. Vampires and giants were not common house guests. Neither of them could resist the invitation.

"Thank you."

Charlie and Benny made their way up the stairs, and just as Sam turned to follow, Rowena approached him with a seductive smile.

"It'll be a _pleasure_ having you, Samuel," she said, and gave his right bicep a squeeze of her hand.

Then she turned and headed up the stairs.

Sam swallowed hard as he watched her ascend. He couldn't tell if he was more apprehensive or excited, but whatever the case, he followed her and the others back to the sitting room to wait out The Man in Black's slumber.


	18. Chapter 18

When he had found out that Castiel was being tortured by Chuck's henchman, Dean had thought that he could not be angrier if he tried.

He was wrong.

was situated outside of Baby's stable stall, and the truth of the last three years was staring him in the face.

Words from Prince Chuck's own hand. His cockiness had allowed him to write his schemes as stories, but Dean would make him regret this folly.

Because he now knew the truth. The Queen was not ill. She was a captive, just like Cas, and had been for years. She was a figurehead for her brother's combative rule. Queen Amara had not called Cas back into action so long ago – Chuck had.

And now she was trapped in the castle, the same one in which Dean ate and slept and had apparently been so blind. Chuck was more of a monster than Dean knew if he could have his own sibling locked away.

Dean felt grieved and guilty. He had intended to find out where Cas was and set off to rescue him immediately. But though The Pit was mentioned, clues as to its precise whereabouts were not. The Queen's location, however, was there in the fine print - including the secret entrance.

Dean bit his lip, thinking hard. Queen Amara was a powerful goddess, and perhaps the only one that could rival Chuck. It was clear that the only reason the prince had not killed her was because they shared a cosmic blood connection. Hurting her could destroy him as well. It was no wonder he had trapped her and lied to the public about her health instead.

There was no doubt about it. Queen Amara was his best hope to end Prince Chuck and ultimately save Cas.

Dean knew it was true, but he still hated it. He prayed Cas could hold out for him, and it pained him greatly not to be going directly to his rescue. If he had any inkling of where The Pit was, he would have gone without question, Queen Amara and her power be damned.

But he didn't. And he couldn't.

Dean stood up from his spot on the ground and heaved a heavy sigh. He pet Baby's head, hoping it would not be for the last time now that his mission was more dangerous than ever.

"Wish me luck, old girl," he said, and Baby nuzzled against his hand.

* * *

The great thing about Prince Chuck was that he trusted very few with his secrets. The guards at the main gate had no knowledge of his more dastardly plans than Dean himself had until recently. They had no clue that the prince would very much like to see Dean dead in the near future.

And so Dean was able to pass them without incident when he entered the castle grounds. A couple of the men even nodded their heads respectfully as he passed. He was the royal betrothed, after all.

Once he was beyond them and in the castle, he began to walk more quickly, following the mantra of directions that were stuck in his head.

Down the main hall. Left. Right. Down two flights of stairs. Right. Past the painting which depicted Lucifer's Fall from Grace. Another right. Another left.

He'd never been to this area of the castle before. The lower floors were generally reserved for servant chambers. And apparently prisoners.

And then, there it was. Even as a seasoned hunter who was used to finding small details, it would have been easy to miss. The section of wall was unassuming, and the large stone in the center was no different than a hundred other stones throughout the castle. But Dean knew its secret, and upon closer inspection, he could see the thin gaps separating that section of wall from the rest.

Dean took a deep breath and pressed the center stone with his palm. It depressed like a button at his touch. Immediately the wall segment began to turn on an axis, revealing the secret passage behind it.

_Ugh,_ thought Dean. _Freaking Chuck, man. What a cliché._

Dean quickly stepped through to the other side of the wall and waited for it to complete its rotation back into place. Once he was sure his tracks were covered, he pulled out his Demon blade. Unfortunately, he knew it would not be enough.

According to Chuck's manuscript, Queen Amara's chamber was consistently guarded by two angels at all times. If he followed this hallway around two corners, he would run right into them. If he waited, they would no doubt find him during their hourly patrols.

There was nothing for it. He had no blade that would work on angel. On a good day, he might manage to wrestle a weapon away from one and come out the victor.

Not two, though.

Blood would have to be shed. Specifically, his.

* * *

Zachariah and Uriel were bored out of their skulls. Guarding Queen Amara's prison chamber was always desperately dull. The two angels would much rather be out traipsing around the countryside, smiting demons and vampires and the occasional human when the mood struck. They would much rather be preparing new angels for the war Prince Chuck had promised them.

But tonight was guard duty.

"Have you ever thought that this is overkill, Uriel?" Zachariah asked his companion. "Like, does Prince Chuck really need us to guard Amara when her powers have been bound, and no one has ever come looking for her?"

Though Uriel was just as bored with his post, he could never find the candor of Zachariah. "You're blaspheming again, Zachariah. You're lucky the prince is not here."

Zachariah rolled his eyes. "It's just between us, Uriel. While I don't intend to tell the prince to his face, even you must agree that this is pointless? No one ever comes down here –"

Suddenly there was a crashing sound down the hallway.

Uriel and Zachariah shared a quick look of shock before pulling out their Angel blades and striding towards the source of the noise. They rounded one corner, and then the second, and that's where they found Dean Winchester. He had his back to the wall and was clutching a bloody wound on his arm.

The two angels shared another look. They both knew of Chuck's plan to kill Dean, but they also knew that the prince wanted things done his way, in his own time. However, if Dean had found this secret passage, it was quite likely that the so-called jig was up.

Dean grinned at them. "What's up, Uriel? Zachy?"

Zachariah glared at the petulant nickname, and neither angel lowered their blade. "Nothing much, Dean-o," Zachariah spat. "We're right where we're supposed to be. You, on the other hand…"

"Ah, yeah. Chuck said you'd be surprised I was here. But where's the other guy? He said there would be three angels…"

Uriel frowned, and Zachariah squinted slightly, confirming for Dean that it really was just the two of them. It was all he needed to know.

The two angels realized what they'd revealed, and suddenly they were both lurching towards him with their Angel blades. But Dean was already moving. He jumped aside to expose the bloody symbol that had been hidden on the wall behind him.

"No, do-" started Uriel, but he could not finish the statement before Dean slapped the angel banishing mark with a bloody hand.

The effect was immediate. The two angels erupted into chaotic light, blinding and hot, and then they were gone. Elsewhere. Nowhere. Dean didn't know or care. He'd bought himself some precious time. _Thank you, Cas_ , he thought, for it was the former angel that had taught him that illegal trick many years ago. Just in case.

Dean hurried down the hall and found the door at the end. He was surprised to find it unlocked and threw it open eagerly. He stepped inside the room. Most of the chamber was behind an outfit of cell bars, with a door that was chained shut with a large padlock. Inside the cell was a thin mattress and…

A woman. Who was staring at him.

Dean walked towards the cell. "Queen Amara?"

The woman stood up from her spot on the mattress and approached him. Dean noticed that despite how tired she looked, she still had a demeanor of unmistakable grace. "Not Queen anymore so much as prisoner, but yes. I am Amara. Who are you?"

"Dean Winchester."

The Queen's face lit up with recognition. "THE Dean Winchester? My brother never shuts up about you. Although…not in the best of ways. He plans to kill you, you know."

"I know," replied Dean. "I read his stories. They're trash, but that's how I found you. I want to help you and ask for your help finishing Chuck in return."

Amara looked at him shrewdly. "Are you a witch, Dean?"

"No."

"Then you cannot help me."

Dean touched the padlock on the cell door. "It might take me awhile, but I can break this lock."

"It's not that puny lock! My powers are bound. I have no magic or strength. It does not matter if I can leave this room if Chuck can throw me right back in. I'm no match, and neither are you."

Dean rubbed his face in agitation. He should have known it would not be that easy. "Okay, so…to get your powers back, we need a witch?"

"Yes. A powerful one."

Dean nodded. "Okay. Then I'll find you one, and we'll take out Chuck together."

"Oh, Dean. Do you really think I'd let that happen?" said a voice behind him.

The hunter turned on the spot and slashed haphazardly with his Demon blade, but Prince Chuck merely disappeared and reappeared out of Dean's reach. "Really? You know that won't kill me."

"I don't care if it kills you!" Dean shouted, unable to keep his anger in check now that Chuck was in sight. "I want you to _hurt_ , Chuck. Like you're hurting Cas!"

Chuck put on a pitying expression. "Not anymore. He's dead. I killed him a little while ago."

"No," said Dean, and it took everything in him not to let his knees give way. "No!" He made another attempt to slash at Chuck, but the god merely did his reappearing act again.

"Don't worry. You'll join him soon. But after the wedding, of course."

And then the Prince reached out and placed a hand to Dean's head, putting him immediately to sleep. Before his body could crumple to the floor, Chuck snapped his fingers and relocated Dean to his bedroom. He would stay locked there until the wedding. For his own good.

Chuck turned to face Amara, who was gazing stoically at him through the bars of her cell. "Sorry you had to see that, Sis," he said. "But don't worry, there shouldn't be any more visitors bothering you."

If looks could kill, Chuck would have been dead a thousand times over.


	19. Chapter 19

Back at Remedy Rowena's 'shack', the twelve hours were fairly inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Rowena seemed to have warmed up to them and even shared some spell books and basic magic tips with Sam when he'd shown an interest in her work. Charlie was also a pleasant host. She made them tea and didn't even flinch when Benny contritely asked if they had any animal blood he might partake in instead.

"No-human diet, huh?" she asked, handing him a vial from Rowena's cupboards. "Well, speaking as a human, I certainly appreciate that."

Benny smiled. "You know, most people wouldn't give a vampire the time of day, even if they're reformed. You're really one of kind."

Charlie grinned. "Back at ya," she said. Then she went up and prepped a bedroom for him and Sam to share.

Despite the unusually pleasant atmosphere, Sam struggled to sleep that night.

"I can hear you thinking, brother."

The giant sighed. Benny didn't really sleep, exactly, so it was no surprise he'd heard Sam twisting and turning in the bed across from him.

"Sorry," Sam said. "It's just. By tomorrow it could all be over. All the time I've spent learning to fight and looking for the yellow-eyed man. It could really be done tomorrow, for better or worse."

"It'll be alright, Sam. You know I'm with you, right? To the end of the road."

"Thanks, Benny."

* * *

The next morning, the group had an early breakfast, which was interrupted by a shout from Rowena's workroom below.

"Damn," said Charlie. "I meant to get your friend a pillow or something, he's going to be so sore!"

Rowena rolled her eyes. "Considering he was just dead, that's probably the least of his worries."

The group hurried down the stairs. Castiel was awake on the table, but he had not moved an inch. Because he _couldn't_ move an inch. He couldn't even turn his head to see whether the footsteps approaching were friend or foe.

"Who's there? Where am I? Why can't I move?"

Sam got to him first. He attempted to lay a reassuring hand on Castiel's shoulder, but it had the opposite effect. 

"Don't touch me!" he snarled. "I remember you! You're a coward, aren't you? I beat you in a sword fight so you poisoned and paralyzed me! You'll pay, I swear it."

Rowena hurried forward. "You have it wrong, dear. These two gentlemen brought you to me for revival. You've been mostly dead for a day. You'll have your full faculties back by this evening, I expect."

This pronouncement was met with silence as Castiel thought it over. His memories were coming back to him. That dreaded Machine…

It was supremely uncomfortable to be unable to move while a gang of people gawked at him. Cas felt exposed and angry. His eyes found Sam, who was hovering near him. "I thought your job was to kill me. Why bring me back?"

Sam had the grace to look somewhat ashamed of himself. "Sorry about that, but the plan has changed. I need you to help me find the yellow-eyed man. You help me with that, and I can help you with your prince problem."

_Prince problem._

Chuck and -

_Dean._

_Dean needed him!_

"We have to go now!" said Castiel urgently.

The group shared looks. "But, you can't move yet."

Castiel practically growled in frustration. "I don't care. We need to get to Dean. I have no doubt that Chuck intends to kill him. With any luck he'll wait until after the wedding to make some kind of big dramatic storyline, but I'm not going to give him the chance."

Benny raised an eyebrow. "Story-?"

Castiel sighed. "Don't ask."

Sam stared down at the former angel. "I know how much it means to you, to make sure that Dean fellow is okay. But the yellow-eyed man. I need to know that you'll help me find him, too."

"Lucky for us," said Cas, "our goals appear to have aligned. The yellow-eyed man is a member of Chuck's inner circle. He is a Count by the name of Azazel, and I have no doubt that where we find Chuck, we will find him."

Sam felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. _Azazel._ Finally a name for the monster. And to think he was close with the prince, free to do as he pleased with impunity.

He could not wait until Castiel regained his strength. They had to move, before Azazel could have any chance to slip away or do more harm. It was foolhardy, but the time had come to boldly take his vengeance.

"We're leaving," Sam announced.

Benny was somewhat reluctant. "We're down our best fighter, shouldn't we wait for Castiel -?"

Sam shook his head. "If we wait for his full strength to return, we may miss the wedding and the distractions that may provide for us. We have to get to the castle and be ready to strike."

"I agree," said Castiel, to no one's surprise. They all knew that if circumstances had allowed, he'd be halfway to Dean already, with or without them.

"Alright then," said Benny. "I guess we better get ready."

Benny and Sam headed upstairs to retrieve some of their belongings. Charlie decided to pack them some food for the road. Rowena, however, hung back with Cas. She hovered over him in order for their eyes to meet properly.

"I know what you are, Castiel."

Cas raised an eyebrow, which was about as much movement as he could manage. "Yeah, what's that?"

"You're a fallen angel. I realized it as I was reviving you."

"That's true. I've never hidden that fact. But what is your point?"

Rowena gave him an unmistakable look of pity. "Don't take this the wrong way, dear. It's just…all the fallen angels I've ever known – they act rashly. They take their new mortality for granted, and it usually costs them greatly. So. I just wanted to ask. Are you sure taking on Chuck is worth the risk? Even with your angel powers it would be difficult, without them…"

There was steel in his blue eyes as Casreplied. "I appreciate your concern. I really do, and I am grateful for what you have done for me. But Dean is what matters. I will risk whatever it takes, I will sacrifice everything for Dean. Even my life."

It was a moving speech, though Cas couldn't help but lament that he was forced to give it while lying flat and motionless on his back.

Rowena sighed. "It's admirable, I suppose. Foolish, but admirable. I'll never understand you heroic types."

Cas's expression was appraising. "Never say never."

Rowena had no response to that, so she willfully chose to ignore it. "I'll go help the boys get ready. I'm sure they'll be down to fetch you soon," she said, then left Cas alone to wait.

She wasn't wrong. Sam and Benny were ready to go within a half hour, and then Sam returned to the workroom for a most undignified fetching process.

Castiel was slumped in the giant's strong arms. "This is ridiculous," he said, head lolling awkwardly to the side.

"Don't worry about it, Cas. I carry people all the time," said Sam. "In fact, I even carried Dean on my back. He didn't mind."

"Weren't you kidnapping him at the time?"

"Um." Sam avoided the question by opening the shack's front door and maneuvering Cas into the wheelbarrow they had left outside. He laid the former angel down gently into it, but the scowl on his face said exactly how Cas felt about the situation.

Benny joined them, carrying Castiel's bag over his back, as well as a bag of food that Charlie had given them.

Rowena and Charlie saw them out.

"Thanks for everything," said Benny.

"Yeah, thanks," echoed Sam.

"Of course!" said Charlie. "Have fun storming the castle!"

"Goodbye, boys!" said Rowena, waving as the small group took off down the road, Benny walking and Sam pushing the wheelbarrow with a disgruntled Castiel in it.

Charlie turned to Rowena once they were out of earshot. "You think they'll be alright?"

Rowena sighed. "They're going against a god. It would take a miracle."


	20. Chapter 20

Benny, Sam, and Castiel traveled as quickly as they could towards the castle, although the wheelbarrow certainly did slow them down. They stopped only once, in the early afternoon, to eat the food that Charlie had packed. Much to Cas's embarrassment, Benny had to help him eat, since he still didn't have use of his limbs.

When they made it to the outer courtyard walls, they ditched the wheelbarrow at the edge of the forest and snuck up the stairs to gain a better vantage point. It was not an easy feat, and Sam worried the whole time that they would run into guards along the way. Luckily, they met no one and were able to take in the scene below.

"Ah, so that's why we didn't see anyone," said Benny, gazing out over the castle grounds. The courtyard was flooded with guards, far more than any of them had expected.

Sam set Castiel down, propping him upright against the wall so he could get a better look. "There must be fifty or sixty men, by the look of it."

"How many can you each take?" asked Cas.

"Five maybe," said Sam.

"Ten if they're humans," said Benny. "Won't be so good if there are any angels."

Castiel's fingers tapped contemplatively against his thigh.

"Hey, you just moved your fingers," said Sam with some excitement.

Cas scowled. "Unless I can tap them to death, it's not much use. We need something impressive, something that will scare most of them away without a fight. Do we have any other assets on us?"

Benny rifled through Cas's bag. "Borax…hey, is this a holocaust cloak?" he asked, pulling the fabric from the bag.

Castiel was surprised. "Where did that come from?"

"Rowena gave it to me," said Sam. "She said it fit me so nicely, I should just keep it. Figured I'd stow it with your stuff."

Castiel thought for a moment. "Alright, I have a plan. But we'll have to go back down and get the wheelbarrow."

* * *

Kevin was supposed to be cleaning The Pit – and he was – but his mind was far from the task at hand.

The grace in his pocket was warming him through the fabric of his clothes, and he could think of little else. He wondered if Sam and Benny had made it to Rowena's, and if she had been able to do anything for the dead man. If so, surely Castiel would be aiming for vengeance towards Prince Chuck. Perhaps Azazel too, since the Count had tortured him.

And if that was the plan, then surely restoring Castiel's grace could tip the scales in his favor?

The door of The Pit opened, interrupting Kevin's thoughts. Count Azazel strode in, surveying Kevin with yellow eyes.

"Where's the wheelbarrow?" asked The Count. "I didn't see it outside."

"Huh. That's strange. It should be there," said Kevin, praying his poker face kept up.

The Count approached him. "I didn't see it at the funeral pyre site, either."

Kevin felt the walls closing in on him. If The Count had been to the usual pyre site, no doubt he would have noticed a lack of evidence of a recent fire. He cursed himself for not thinking of faking one. He had begun to take for granted how much The Count kept an eye on him. 

Kevin swallowed. "Perhaps someone stole it."

Without warning, The Count raised the back of his hand and struck Kevin hard across the face. The young man staggered backwards against the wall. Before he had any chance to defend himself, The Count had him by the throat.

"Do not lie to me, Kevin. You did not burn The Man in Black as I asked. _Where_ is his body?"

Kevin hated himself, but dammit, he wanted to live. He was not born a fighter. He was not born brave. "Two men came and took the body away. They threatened to kill me. I'm sorry."

The Count did not loosen his grip. "What did they look like?"

"A…a giant. And a vampire."

Azazel snorted like a wild boar. Kevin closed his eyes, waiting for further punishment, but it did not come. The Count removed his hand and let him slump against the wall. "Was that so difficult, Kevin?" he asked.

The condescension infuriated Kevin, more than being struck. Even more than being forced to be a servant to cruelty. The Count was so damn smug, and Kevin's hatred was so deep that he was sure it would burn him up from the inside.

But Kevin forced a pitiful look onto his face. "No, sir. Sorry, sir," he said, though he was not sorry at all. He was fed up. He may not have been a fighter, but he could still bring about Azazel's end. He would just have to wait until the ace in his pocket could be played. He would need help, but he would make it happen.

Count Azazel nodded, as if reproaching a small child. "Good," he said. Then he gently pressed Kevin's rapidly-bruising cheek. Kevin had to repress a shiver at the touch of those awful fingers. "I trust you will need no further reminders."

Then The Count left again, certain as he always was that fear would keep Kevin in his place.

But he had never been more wrong.

Kevin Tran had had enough.

* * *

When a knock came to their door for the second time in as many days, Rowena knew it couldn't be a coincidence. Something must have happened to Castiel, Benny, and Sam, and now they needed more magic. She sighed. That was the problem with being generous. People always needed more, and it was exhausting. Even though she liked the trio, she was going to have to cut them off after this. Healthy boundaries are important, after all.

But when she opened the door, she found a face she did not recognize. He was young and slight of build and had a sizable bruise on his left cheek. "Who the hell are you?" she asked.

"Kevin Tran," he said brusquely. "I'm looking for Sam and Benny. There's something I need to give them."

Charlie appeared at the door by Rowena's side. "What's going on, Ro?"

"I'm just finding out, but Kevin Tran here says he needs to get something to Samuel and Benny."

"Oh. Well they took off hours ago. Sorry about that."

Kevin rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had made his way to the witch, but his journey was not over. Of course not. "Did you…the third man they were with, is he…?"

"Castiel is alive. I sorted him out, and now they're all off to storm the castle. What could you possibly need to give them, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I need to take his grace to him."

Rowena and Charlie both stared at him in shock. "You have Castiel's grace?"

Kevin pulled the vial out from his pocket and showed it to Rowena. The witch took it from him. Just like Kevin, she too could feel the raw power she held in her hands. She thought about what the boys were facing, and how much of a difference something like this could make.

Rowena looked Kevin over. His face was bruised, but his eyes were determined. She could tell that he intended to get the grace to Castiel or die trying.

She could help him. She could get them into the castle and protect him on his mission. Together they would be much more likely to get the grace to the fallen angel. It would be dangerous. It could even be suicide.

Prince Chuck, Rowena knew, was not a good man. Not just because he'd fired her, though there was that. He was a killer. He was a warmonger. He was a pompous idiot. He was bad for both the Kingdom of Heaven _and_ Hell.

The witch looked at Charlie. Though things were complicated and undefined between them, Rowena could admit she had a soft spot for her. The woman who always believed in her. The woman that was always convincing her to do the decent thing.

"Rowena, what's wrong?" asked Charlie. "You've got a strange look on your face."

Rowena sighed. _Never say never,_ said Castiel. _Damn him, and Charlie too._ "I think," she said, "that we have to go be heroes."


	21. Chapter 21

Sam was on fire. Of course, he hadn't exactly liked the plan, but he did have a certain trust that Castiel could get them through anything. That was the main reason to bring him back in the first place, after all.

The giant was an even more imposing figure than usual, standing atop the wheelbarrow which added another two feet to his already massive height. And, as mentioned, he was literally on fire. The flames were licking over the Holocaust cloak, but Sam felt no pain. Benny was hunched behind him, pushing the wheelbarrow with all his might. Luckily, all eyes were on Sam.

Sam cleared his throat, and in his most booming voice, said, "I am the Dread Demon Cain. My wrath and fury be upon you. There will be NO survivors."

Unsurprisingly, this started a bit of a panic at the main gate. Demons were one thing, but THE Dread Demon Cain was infamous. And a massive flaming figure might alarm anyone, no matter the name.

Nearly a dozen of the more cowardly guards simply turned tail and ran with not even an attempt at upholding their duties. A few more waved their swords feebly only to retreat as they felt the heat of the giant's blaze come closer. A core few held fast together, defiance in their eyes. A loyal bunch, ready to die.

_Do what must be done_ , thought Sam remorsefully. And so he stomped his foot, and at this signal, Benny jumped out from behind him, fangs bared and menacing. The guards had not seen him coming and all their attention was suddenly diverted to the vampire. With that distraction, Sam gave up the fiery charade. He pulled off the now smoldering cloak and pulled out his sword.

Together they fought.

Steel clashed against steel and Sam downed three men in record time. Benny was holding his own as well, disabling his opponents, smashing legs and punching out fellows with his vampiric strength. They were outnumbered until they were not, and then one man was left.

Not a man, _an angel_ , Benny suddenly realized as he picked up the scent.

Michael had let the guards try their hand, but he himself had tried to stay out of the conflict until absolutely necessary. He was afraid that in the chaos, either the giant or the vampire might get in a lucky shot and take him out. Which couldn't be allowed, since he was the keeper of the castle gate key, which hung around his neck.

Benny and Sam slowly approached the angel from either side, knowing that this was a significantly more dangerous foe. For once, Sam may have given up his mother's sword for an Angel blade, if he'd had the choice.

"Come now, children," taunted Michael. "You were doing so well. Don't be shy now."

The angel struck without warning, moving quick as a blink, and then Benny had been grabbed 'round the chest with an Angel blade pressed to his throat.

Sam lowered his sword slightly, ready to surrender if it was needed to save Benny's life. "Listen, sir, we have no qualms with you. I'm seeking the murderer, Count Azazel."

Michael's eyes flickered with interest. "Azazel is a scab. What the Prince sees in a demon like that I will never know. But as much as I'd like to see the fleabag get what's coming to him, I am duty bound to keep the likes of you out. Say goodbye to the vampire."

Just as he said it, Michael felt the point of an Angel blade against his own back. "Drop it, Michael, old friend."

Michael lowered his blade and pushed Benny away roughly, then turned instead to face Castiel.

Sam and Benny had left the former angel a ways outside the castle grounds so that he could regain his strength during the battle. The plan was that Sam would go back for him once the gate was clear, but there was Cas now, somehow managing to stand on his own two feet.

Michael eyed Cas with an appraising expression. "Castiel. I haven't seen you since your fall from grace. How's the humanity treating you?"

"Very well, thanks. It's a funny thing what you may realize when you cease to be one of the Prince's puppets. Judging by that string around your neck, though, I'm not sure you can relate."

Michael lowered his Angel blade and fingered the key around his neck. Castiel looked much as he remembered, save for the beard. His eyes, blazing and critical, were the same.

"This may surprise you, Castiel, but I am no puppet," said Michael quietly. "Things are not as they once were, even I can see it. There are rumors that Prince Chuck…that he cares not for the Kingdom at all. That he's done…something…to the Queen." The whisperings had bothered Michael for some time, but he dared not speak them to his fellow angels, whose allegiances he could not be sure of. Castiel, however, had once been like a brother to him. And Castiel fell because he was always one to question orders and motives. In the secret part of his heart, it was something Michael admired intensely. So he shared his doubts now and waited for Castiel to either confirm or deny them.

Cas felt a wave affection for his old friend, but he could not waver from the truth or his mission. He responded carefully. "Michael, the first of your worries is a certainty, I'm sorry to say. Prince Chuck wants war, and he'll tell whatever lies he needs to in order to achieve it. Angels will die and he won't care. As for the Queen…I'm not sure. However, I would not exactly put it beyond the realm of possibility. I hope to find the truth as I rescue Dean Winchester."

"Dean Winchester, the hunter? Dean Winchester, the groom?"

Castiel nodded. "He's not safe. I'm not sure anyone is with Chuck's whims."

Michael closed his eyes, a look of anguish on his face. It seemed like immense effort when he finally reopened them. "I can't help you, Castiel. But I won't stop you, either." Then the angel pulled the key off from around his neck. He tossed it to Castiel, who caught it.

"And hurry, old friend," he said, "the wedding should be starting any time now."

With that, Michael disappeared with a sound of rushing wings.

Benny and Sam stared at the spot he disappeared from, and then up at Castiel. "That was great timing to get your legs back, Castiel," said Benny. "We're gonna need you."

"S'ppose so," muttered Cas, right before his legs - which he'd been struggling to keep from wobbling all this time - gave out beneath him.

Sam and Benny hurried forward and propped him back up between them. Sam threw Benny a dirty look. "You had to say it, didn't you?"

* * *

Dean had awakened hours after he was thrown in his bedroom. He had an awful headache, but that was the least of his problems, considering he was locked in. All attempts at picking the lock came to naught, and he realized that there was more to it - perhaps some of Chuck's power that was keeping him there.

Outside his window, the sun was almost down, and the wedding would be set to start soon. But surely Chuck couldn't force him? Could this really be happening? And Cas, oh Cas, was he really...?

Dean fought the wave of despair. Cas had been 'dead' once before, and Dean had lost faith then. Cas had said he would always return to him, and Dean had to believe it this time around. He just had to.

Dean did all he could do in the meantime - he wrote a note to Cas regarding Amara's imprisonment and tucked it under his pillow with a corner peeking out. Even if Dean couldn't get the Queen out before the wedding, perhaps Cas could.

When Prince Chuck came to get him, Dean had all intentions of fighting him. This, however, was anticipated by Chuck and he immediately snapped his fingers as he entered.

Dean's body shuddered as he felt the reins of control being taken away from him. The prince snapped his fingers again, and now Dean was dressed in formal attire.

And then he was being pulled out the door on Chuck's arm, his traitorous feet moving forward to the castle chapel in which they were to be wed.

_Damn him_ , thought Dean.

And then a silent prayer. _Come on, Cas. You said not even death could stop our bond, now is the time to prove it. I need you._


	22. Chapter 22

Gabriel hadn't volunteered for this, but generally as an angel, when the Prince said fly, you asked, how high. That didn't mean he couldn't have some fun with it, especially since Prince Chuck seemed far too preoccupied to punish him at the moment.

The Prince kept glancing at Dean. His groom was glassy-eyed and stiff, but Gabriel couldn't blame him. Getting married to Prince Chuck could hardly be an affair one undertook while sober.

Loud sounds were coming from somewhere far off, perhaps on the castle grounds. Chuck looked distractedly over his shoulder towards the chapel doors.

Then he looked back at Gabriel.

"Let's get on with this."

Gabriel grinned a little too heartily. He looked over at the grooms and at the audience behind them. There were members of Heaven's Great Council, the Royal Guard, a smattering of rich noblemen among the crowd.

What a lovely bunch of stiffs.

"Mawidge," Gabriel began, intentionally mangling the word. "Mawidge is what bwings us to-gether to-day."

"What in the Hell," said Chuck through gritted teeth.

Gabriel grinned. "It's meta, don't worry about it, your Princely-ness."

Chuck was intensely annoyed. He knew he should have asked another angel to officiate. "Gabriel, how dare y-"

There was a clamoring from outside the chapel room - shouting, sounding closer than ever, perhaps in the castle halls now.

"Never mind," Chuck said. "Continue, now!"

"Mawidge. That bwessed event. That dweam within a dweam..."

"Enough! Pronounce us as married!" demanded Prince Chuck.

Gabriel blinked. "I'm not there yet," he pouted.

"You are if I say so! Pronounce us as wed!"

Gabriel glared, then shrugged. "You're wed."

Prince Chuck looked at his Royal Guard, and spoke directly to Count Azazel. "Take care of the disturbance, understand?"

Azazel nodded. "It will be done," he said.

Then the Count lead his men out of the chapel, all of them grabbing hold of their weapons as they went.

The Prince turned back to Dean. The hunter was still under Chuck's power, in body if not in mind. There was a deep hatred in his glassy green eyes. Usually Chuck would be cheered to see Dean put up a fighting spirit (it was better story inspiration), but right now he didn't have time. Whatever was happening here was not something he had expected. Castiel was dead, Dean was malleable, so who else did he need to worry about?

Paranoia was starting to take hold. The Queen was locked up, but she was not entirely a secret. Several angels knew the truth, though not all. Which could he trust? And he had outside enemies, of course. Demons, mostly. But none would dare...

Chuck's heart was hammering in his chest. He had to make sure the Queen was secure, that his castle was safe, that his plans and precious stories could proceed as intended. He looked at Dean, who was swaying slightly.

He scowled and spoke mostly to himself. "Later, I'll have to deal with you _later_!"

Prince Chuck snapped his fingers, and Dean was suddenly transported back to his bedroom. Chuck's power over him was broken, though Dean wasn't sure if it was intentional or not. Unfortunately it did not matter; the door was once again locked and immovable.

Dean sighed deeply. He was starting to lose heart. He wanted to be out there, fighting, running, anything to combat Chuck. And worse, the wedding had been carried out, and he felt disgust that he was now married to a monster. Of course, Prince Chuck intended to kill him, so at least he wouldn't have to suffer the marriage long.

He felt helpless.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed and reached beneath his pillow for the note he had written.

But...

It was gone!

He looked under the pillows and mattress to be sure, but the note was nowhere to be found. Hope burgeoned inside his chest.

Dean smiled.

_Cas._

* * *

Dean, however, was wrong in his assumption. Castiel had _not_ been the one to find the note, for at that time he was still being rather unceremoniously dragged through the halls as Benny and Sam took turns fighting off guards and pulling him along.

But more on that later.

The note had instead fallen into the hands of an unlikely trio. Rowena, Kevin, and Charlie had arrived at the castle after it had already descended into chaos. The main gate was open wide to all, and guards could be seen running this way and that, shouting at each other. It was clear there was some confusion as to who they were meant to be fighting.

"It was a burning Dread Demon Cain, I tell you!" They heard one fellow shout to a companion.

"Eyes like a mad dog," said another.

The guards were so busy prattling on about some horror they had witnessed that the trio managed to slip by quite unchallenged.

Rowena, who had some knowledge of the castle from her Remedy Woman days, lead the way. Though it was Castiel they were searching for, the intended destination was the hunter-groom's bedroom. What better place to look for the fallen angel, who was himself searching for his love?

They were not as lucky inside the castle as they had been sneaking through the grounds. Three times they were found by Royal Guards, who were much more aggressive and clever than those at the gate. They came at the group with swords ready.

Rowena was not a witch for nothing, however. She cast her spells with precision and intensity. One guard she dropped with legs so numb as to make them useless. Another she hexed with a temporary memory loss, and he promptly tossed down his weapon and walked away from them in a daze.

A third almost took her by surprise, but to Rowena's astonishment, Kevin was there with a right hook, and then Charlie yanked the guard's arms back and wrestled away the sword. That gave Rowena time enough for a spell, and she opted to put the guard into a deep sleep.

When it was done, she raised an eyebrow at her two companions. "My, you both are full of surprises, aren't you?" she said.

Kevin shrugged while Charlie grinned. "I'm keeping this," said the red-head, raising the sword happily.

"By all means," replied Rowena, and then they set off again.

Dean's bedroom was on the third floor. It was locked with a powerful spell when they arrived, but Rowena managed to undo it after a few minutes hard work.

They entered the room together. The bed was made up with silk sheets, the curtains on the window were opened to a starry sky outside, and everything was quite in order.

Much to their dismay, Dean Winchester was not to be found, nor Castiel. A dead end, it would seem.

Kevin huffed. "Great, now what?"

Rowena glanced around again. Nothing was out of place, nothing except—

The witch saw the corner of parchment sticking out beneath the pillow and immediately went for it. Charlie and Kevin watched as her eyes slid down the page, reading quickly.

Then she looked up and beamed at them. This note - calling for a witch to save the Queen, and detailing how to find her prison chamber - it was like fate. It was like a gift from, well, not God apparently, but someone far more helpful.

Once she explained it all to Kevin and Charlie, they too were renewed with energy and eagerness.

"We have to go help her!" exclaimed Charlie.

Rowena corrected her. "As a witch, the Queen requires _me_. But there's a chance I may fail, and even if I don't, we need all the defense we can get. I will go down and free the Queen. But Castiel is somewhere in this castle, and he still needs his grace. You two should continue to look for him."

Kevin and Charlie glanced at each other. It was a little alarming to suddenly lose the protection of Rowena's company and magic.

Rowena read their apprehension correctly. "You'll do fine, my dears. I saw the way you disarmed that guard without my help. Just stick together, alright?"

"Okay," said Charlie, and Kevin nodded his agreement. "But be careful, and try to meet us back in the front hall?"

"Aye," Rowena confirmed.

Then the three exited the room together, Rowena going one way and Charlie and Kevin going another to search for Castiel.

* * *

When the wedding ceremony was over, after he'd sent Dean back to an empty but re-locked bedroom, Prince Chuck had set off at once to check on the Queen's prison chamber.

The usual angel guards were missing from their post when he got there, and it was then that the Prince finally knew terror. Hoping against hope, he hurried into the room that housed Amara's cell.

The padlock was broken to pieces.

And unlike Dean, who was currently looking for a note and feeling reassurance at its absence, so now Chuck was seeing an absence as well and feeling nothing but fury and dread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I cheated to get 'mawidge' lines in there, but aw well. I mean, it's Gabriel, so why not?


	23. Chapter 23

After their fiery entrance, Sam, Benny and Cas found more trouble within the castle itself. There were extra guards in the hallways, and Sam had a hell of a time fighting them off. Benny helped when he could, but mainly he had to keep Castiel on his feet.

The three made it through the corridors slowly, leaving unconscious bodies and possibly worse in their wake. Sam was starting to breathe heavily. None of their combatants had even close to his level of swordsmanship, but taking one after another and sometimes several together was certainly taxing his endurance.

Cas was calling out directions from his place at Benny's side. "A few more turns and we'll be at the chapel room," he said.

Benny could not help but feel that this was a misguided plan. Castiel had his desperation to save Dean, and Sam of course could not be slowed down now that they were this close to the yellow-eyed man. But the fact remained that they had no reason to believe they could survive an encounter with a god like Prince Chuck.

"Are we sure about this?" Benny asked. For now they were walking through a quiet hall, all guards subdued behind them for the time being. Cas turned his head to face Benny, and Sam looked his way as well.

"What do you mean?" asked Sam.

"Well, that Chuck fellow. What are we supposed to do about him?"

Neither Sam nor Castiel spoke for a moment. It was clear from the look on Sam's face that he had no set course of action in mind besides 'kill Azazel' and 'stay alive.'

Not particularly reassuring.

"We fight," said Castiel finally.

Sam nodded his agreement and Benny just sighed. For once he did not envy them their humanity, and instead pitied the way they could be ruled, even foolishly so, by their fierce hearts.

But he had promised Sam that he would stay by him, to the end of the road. He'd grown fond of Castiel as well, despite the fact that the fallen angel was currently a burdensome weight on his shoulder.

They were just about to turn another corner when all Hell broke loose. Benny could hear, by his estimate, no less than ten pairs of feet charging towards them. The vampire made a split-second decision and shoved Castiel as far away from himself as possible, in the opposite direction of the incoming party. He staggered away, but Benny had no time to watch if he stayed upright.

Benny quickly fanged out, and Sam was all ready with his sword, and then the host of guards were upon them. These were not the green watchmen of the main gate, but instead a great many of the skilled Royal Guard.

Sam engaged with four at once, which was generally his upper limit. Benny grabbed one before he could swing his blade and practically tossed the smaller man down the hall. Three more guards approached him, and he had to dodge the tips of their swords; there was nothing to be done but to survive.

Sam was faring a little better, but quickly getting worn down. Constant parrying, his feet dancing like they were on hot coals, every move immediately followed by another to prevent attacks from landing.

Benny let out a groan as he got a shallow slash in the abdomen. As a vampire, it wouldn't kill him, but it would slow him down. Which would still kill him, once they managed to get a chance at his neck.

And then Benny saw him. One of the guards attacking him had yellow eyes. 

Terrible, cruel yellow eyes.

But Sam had not yet seen, as he was still busy with two of his own opponents.

"Sam!" Benny called out. "Azazel!"

Count Azazel blinked, having no idea why or how this vampire knew his name, or what he hoped to accomplish by saying it aloud.

It was a fraction of a second before it registered in Sam's mind. Another fraction of a second until he found the object of Benny's gaze.

"Azazel?" he questioned, even as he brought his sword up to block his chest from another attack.

The guard by Benny turned at the sound of his own name, and then Sam saw those awful yellow eyes for himself.

The change this caused in Sam was something quite terrific to behold. Suddenly his power and fury came through in every thrust of his sword, faster than he had been, stronger, no longer tired.

It was an unfortunate bloody affair, but there was no more time for games. Sam ended the two guards he faced and went to help Benny. He slashed at those closest to him, knocked them back and away and down. They groaned and grimaced and held hands against their bleeding wounds.

Nothing could touch Sam now, not a thing, and it was apparent to all. Two of the guards that remained, though brave and strong, had seen enough of the massacre. They ran down the hall, stumbling over themselves to get away.

But not Azazel. The Count had turned away from Benny when it became apparent who the real threat was. Now it was just the three of them. Castiel was somewhere out of sight, two guards had fled, and the rest were strewn along the floor, dead or dying.

Count Azazel looked at Sam, and Sam looked at him.

"Hello," Sam said, in a voice that was deadly calm. "My name is Samuel, son of Mary. You killed my mother. Prepare to die."

The Count didn't have the faintest clue who that was, because in truth he had probably killed a lot of people's mothers over the years. A few things were clear, though. He was outnumbered, with a vampire at his back and the greatest swordsman he had ever seen in front of him - one apparently with a furious need for vengeance. Count Azazel was no coward, not generally, but he was also no idiot. He'd have to get away first, then perhaps gain the upper hand, or at least lose one of them.

And so, to the surprise of them all, Count Azazel bolted down the only way that wasn't blocked - the hall to his immediate left. Sam was too stunned for a moment that the monster he had built up in his head might actually flee. But then his brain caught up. He flew after the Count, and heard the sound of Benny's footsteps right behind him.

The Count ran and ran. He blew around corners and through a thick set of double doors, which he barred behind him. His knowledge of the castle was certainly coming in handy.

Benny could not keep up with Sam. His side was bleeding freely - perhaps the wound was deeper than he thought. Certainly hurt like hell.

"Sam, wait, I don't think I can -"

Sam was now throwing himself against the barred door through which Azazel had escaped. He glanced at Benny, but he could not stop. "Benny, I have to do this. Go back, find Cas, get somewhere safe. Azazel is _mine._ "

"Sam, brother -" started Benny.

"Go!"

Benny had no choice but to do as he said; he'd only be a liability to Sam in this state, and he couldn't do that to him. The vampire turned away, and once he was some feet down the hall, he heard the tell-tale sound of the door finally giving in to Sam's weight.

_Good luck, brother,_ thought Benny.

Sam took the crash into the next room with as much grace as he could manage. He quickly regained his balance and tried to scan his surroundings, but he was not fast enough. Count Azazel leaped out from behind a pillar and, with a practiced aim, threw a dagger in the giant's direction. It whizzed through the air and landed with an unthinkable sound in Sam's gut.

Pain and disbelief enveloped Sam. He fell back against the wall for support. He clutched at his wound, and his own red blood coated his hand.

Count Azazel approached him, still with caution but clearly feeling as though the threat was greatly diminished. He finally had a chance to look at his foe properly.

There was familiarity in the shape of his face, the color and rage in his eyes. It was then the recognition hit. The boy had been big for his age even then, but who would have known the giant he would become?

The large man spoke suddenly, through gritted teeth. "Hello," he said. "My name is Samuel, son of Mary. You killed my mother. Prepare to die."

"Yes, I know. I remember you now. You're that brat I taught a lesson to, all those years ago."

Sam raised his sword slowly. "Hello," he repeated. "My name is Samuel, son of Mary. You killed my mother. Prepare to die."

"Are you still trying to win? Have you spent your whole life hunting for me, only to fail now? That's the saddest thing I've ever heard." Azazel's lips curled into a mocking smile.

Sam gritted his teeth some more and straightened his stance.

Count Azazel stepped back slightly.

"Hello!" said Sam, louder now. "My name is Samuel, son of Mary! You killed my mother. Prepare to die!"

Sam pulled the dagger from his belly and pressed against the wound with his hand. He stepped forward, sword raised and pointed towards the Count. "Hello!" he shouted. "My name is Samuel, son of Mary. You killed my mother, prepare to die!"

Count Azazel lifted his own sword just in time to block Sam's sudden attack. And then the two were at it, blades connecting in a cacophony of metallic clinks.

Sam advanced, his pain forgotten now, his body fueled by adrenaline and his mind by rage. "Hello! My name is Samuel, son of Mary! You killed my mother! Prepare to die!"

"Stop saying that!" yelled Azazel, unable to keep the panic from his voice. And for good reason - he was losing ground and the giant showed no signs of slowing, despite the gut wound. Then Azazel's back was to the wall.

Sam smashed his sword down against Azazel's weapon, and the power of the swing made the Count lose his grip. His sword clattered uselessly to the floor, and then the point of Sam's blade was directly over his heart.

Now that he was here, another memory struck Azazel. This sword against him now was one he had commissioned, long ago. At that time many of his enemies were fellow demons, and he had specifically asked for one that would be useful against even them. One that could kill them.

All the color drained from his face, a fact Sam couldn't help but notice. "You remembered, didn't you?" he asked. "Thought you were safe enough, but this is no ordinary sword, is it?"

The Count swallowed.

Sam dug the point in deeper against his chest. "Offer me money," he said.

"Yes, of course," agreed the Count.

"Power too, promise me that."

"Yes, all that I have and more!"

"Offer me everything I ask for!" Sam demanded.

"Anything you want," Count Azazel spat sourly back.

"I want my mother back, you son of a bitch," said Sam, and then he drove the blade home.

Azazel's eyes flickered briefly with demonic light and energy, but then it was all extinguished to nothing. The shock was still on his face when he died.

Sam removed the sword and let Azazel's body slide to the ground. A wave of emotions washed over him, the primary one being relief. It was over and he had done right by his mother, even if he could never bring her back.

Sam turned away from the ugly scene and began to walk back the way he had come, through the broken double doors. He kept his fist pressed against his stomach wound. He wasn't sure how bad it might be, but he was determined to see Benny and Castiel again, even if it was the last thing he managed to do.


	24. Chapter 24

When Rowena had found the Queen in her cell, they had both stared for a moment in quiet shock.

"Rowena," The Queen had said. "I thought - has Prince Chuck not turned you against me? It's been years since you were my Remedy Woman and you never came to my aid."

Rowena fought back her embarrassment. "Your brother fired me, Your Majesty. I believed what he told me - that it was under your command. He said I was clearly unfit since your illness was getting worse."

"My illness," spat the Queen. "He was poisoning me slowly over time, until I was weak enough to trap. He sent you away so you wouldn't figure it out."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," said Rowena. "I would have helped if—"

"Never mind that now," Amara said. "We are short on time; the Prince could return here at any moment. If you wish to help, help me now. Get me out of here."

And so Rowena made short work of the padlock with magic, and the two hastened to make their exit.

"If I'm to get my powers back, we will need some ingredients for a spell in the storeroom."

"I'll get you there," promised Rowena. Then the witch removed her hooded cloak and offered it to the Queen. "But in the meantime, wear this. It may help to keep anyone from recognizing you."

The Queen had agreed, and the two went off to search for ingredients that could unbind her powers.

* * *

Benny was on a search too, but it was not going well. He had no idea where Castiel had got to, which was odd because, last he knew, the fallen angel barely had the strength to stand.

As it happened, Sam found Benny again before either of them found Castiel.

The first thing Benny noticed was the blood coating Sam's shirt, and the way he was holding his fist against it. "You alright, brother?"

Sam smiled. "I'll be fine. You're looking better," he said, nodding at Benny's own stomach wound.

Benny shrugged. "Vampires heal fast. Azazel?"

"Dead," Sam confirmed. Morbid as it was, they couldn't help but smile.

"Good to hear," Benny said. "Now, about the rest of this plan. I know you guys wanted to fight, but after everything, I think running is our only chance."

Sam nodded. "If we even can run. Not sure where we could go that Chuck won't find us. But you're right, we have to try. We'll need a quicker get-away. I saw the stables out back, maybe we can ride out on some horses?"

"Let's go see, then look for Castiel and Dean. I really hope Cas has found him by now, you know he won't leave here without out him."

Sam knew it was true. They decided to head back out, and by sheer luck or because they'd already handled most of them, they ran into no guards on the way. The stables too were unmanned , and together Benny and Sam brought out four horses.

There was a black one that was quick to become Sam's favorite, with its trusting eyes and easy nature. He pet its head and it blinked contentedly.

"There were some trees near the gate," said Sam. "It'll be a better place to stow the horses until we can come back to them with Castiel and Dean."

Benny agreed, and the two had started towards the front of the castle with the horses in tow, when a sudden sound of shattering glass erupted from somewhere above them. It was followed immediately by a crash directly in their path. An indistinct object had fallen to the ground, and warily they went to investigate.

It was a mess of splintered wood, but still they could just make out the shape it had once been. It was the remains of a dresser drawer, mixed in with shattered window glass.

"What the—" Sam began, but Benny turned his head upward. A figure stood silhouetted in a window frame, three floors above them.

It was hard to see since the person was backlit, but Benny's sharp eyes missed nothing. "I'll be damned," he said. "It's Dean."

* * *

Though Dean had suspected that Cas was looking for him, he didn't think it was smart to wait in the very room in which Chuck had placed him.

He didn't want to make it easy for the god to get to him.

The door's magic lock was beyond Dean, but he had started to wonder about the window. Chuck had been in such a frantic hurry to zap Dean back here, it was quite possibly an oversight.

And so Dean tried the window lock to no avail, but when that was a bust, he couldn't help but revert to his natural instincts. He was still a hunter, and hunters got things done.

He stripped his mattress and tied some of the sheets together, then tied one end to the sturdy leg of the bed. It wasn't likely to get him all the way down to the ground, but it would get him lower, and he might just have to risk a rolled ankle if it came to jumping.

Then he pulled one of the drawers from his dresser. It was a finely crafted and stately piece of furniture, so of course Dean didn't give a damn about it. He dumped the clothes from the drawer quickly, then surveyed his target. He lifted the drawer into his arms, and with a great effort, he heaved it with all his might against the window.

The glass exploded outward and the drawer went with it. The sound of shattering was music to Dean's ears - he had worried that Chuck might have made it impenetrable. With renewed purpose, he carefully began knocking out some of the remaining glass and threw one end of the sheet out the window.

It was then that he heard a sound to stop his heart. It was a heavy thumping against his bedroom door.

_Oh crap, Chuck,_ he thought.

Then he came to his senses. Chuck wouldn't need to knock or to try and break down the door. Still, he kept his hands on the sheet in case he needed to scramble out the window for a quick escape.

"Who's there?" he called.

"Dean? Dean!"

His heart nearly stopped again. He knew that voice!

All plans forgotten, he ran to the door. "Cas? Cas, is that you?"

"Yes, it's me. It's so good to hear your voice, Dean. I've come to get you, but I can't get through this damn door."

Dean placed a hand on the door as if to reach through to Cas. He had no idea that on the other side, Cas was doing the same.

"Listen, Cas," he said. "The door ain't gonna happen. But the window in here will get me outside. Can you meet me on the grounds? Then maybe we can get out of here before Chuck comes around."

There was a pause.

"Cas, you alright?"

"I - yes, I will meet you outside. Be careful, Dean."

"You, too," said Dean.

Then he hurried back across the room. He gave the sheets a tug to test them, and when they held firm, he began his precarious climb out the window.

Dean reached the end of his 'rope' alarmingly fast. He was still a full floor and half up and dangling.

"Dammit," he said, wondering how much damage he was going to do to himself by jumping down.

"Don't worry, man, I'll catch you," came a voice from below.

Dean looked down and was shocked to see Sam the Giant and Benny the vampire below him. He very nearly thought it might be better if he just climbed back up the way he had come.

Of course, that wasn't an option.

"Is this how you'll kidnap me again?" Dean shouted down angrily.

Sam blinked guiltily up at him. "We're sorry about that, really. But I swear, we're on your side now. We've been helping Castiel storm the castle."

Skeptical as he was, Dean couldn't help but believe it. It seemed unlikely that Cas had gotten through the castle alone. Dean thought it over and then decided taking a chance on Sam would be better than just jumping and praying for the best.

"You can really catch me?" asked Dean, just to be sure.

Sam clutched his wound slightly. It seemed to be bleeding less, and he still felt strong enough for this.

"Yes," Sam answered, and opened his arms in waiting.

"Alright, count of three. One, two...three!"

Dean let go of the sheets and dropped like a stone, but Sam was there as promised to catch him in his giant arms.

"Uh, thanks," said Dean awkwardly, and he was very glad that Sam set him down quickly.

Sam returned his hand to his own stomach, and it was then that Dean noticed Sam's wound. "Man, should you even be walking?"

"I'll be fine," Sam replied. "Now if only we had Castiel..."

"Cas is on his way down," said Dean suddenly. "He was at my door but couldn't get through. He said he'd meet me on the grounds."

"That's a relief," said Sam. "With these horses, we may actually stand a chance of getting away." Sam nodded towards the horses, which Benny still had by the reins.

"Baby!" Dean exclaimed, hurrying over to the black beauty that Sam had favored.

The giant joined Dean at Baby's side, and gave her a stroke along her mane. "She's a great horse," said Sam fondly.

Dean beamed at him. "She doesn't usually like strangers."

"I'll consider myself lucky then," said Sam, with a kind smile back.

"Um, fellas, shouldn't we get to the gate to meet Castiel?" asked Benny. "Quick get-away and all that?"

Dean and Sam nodded their agreement. Dean took Baby's reins himself, and the group made their way towards the front of the castle.

By some miracle, things were looking up.


	25. Chapter 25

Things were looking down, at least from Castiel's perspective, and quite literally. He had just finished talking with Dean and was now standing on the edge of the third floor stairs.

When Benny had shoved Cas away to save him from the onslaught of the guards, Cas had managed to stay on his feet and duck out of sight for awhile. As the minutes grew, he found some strength in his limbs returning - not enough to be helpful in a fight, but enough to search for Dean. Soon, he had gotten away from the fray altogether and found a staircase. It was as likely a way as any to go, and though it was daunting at first, using the railing as support proved to be quite helpful.

It was slow-going, but the thought of seeing Dean again sustained him. If they were reunited, Cas felt sure they could weather any storm, even one as volatile as Chuck.

He was nearly to floor three – with no clear thought of how to find Dean except to go on – when he had heard the sound of the shattering glass. It was coming from the hallway off the nearest landing.

He knew in his heart that fate had guided him to this spot. Shattering glass was a sound of purpose and action, a sound of a bullheaded and resourceful Dean Winchester. Cas practically flew up the last few steps and through the hall, stopping at a room which he guessed to be the most likely source of the noise.

He shoved his shoulder hard against the door, and a moment later he heard Dean's voice calling out, demanding to know who was there. Cas's spirit lifted knowing Dean was so close by. The two exchanged short greetings, and the hunter then quickly explained the situation to Cas. They would have to meet on the grounds and make a run for it, he said.

Cas felt a heaviness return to his heart. He'd used up a lot of energy getting to this point, and had placed a lot of stock on reuniting with Dean in person. But still, there was no other choice. He agreed to the plan and left the door, walking back to the stairway. His legs were feeling weak and shaky again, and his breathing was coming hard.

Cas braced himself against the handrail and began his descent. Each step was careful. He was afraid he would not be able to correct himself or catch himself if he started to fall.

He made his way down the first flight of stairs in this horribly slow fashion, and then the real trouble started. He felt a sensation of pins and needles start in his feet and progress upward. His body needed to rest...but no, he needed to move! Dean was waiting.

Cas was halfway down the second set of stairs when his fear came true. He overstepped by a few inches and his foot failed to find the next stair. Gravity took over and his grip slipped off the rail, arm flying out instead to brace for impact –

Two bodies emerged from around the corner on the even floor below , two sets of arms grabbed onto him before he could tumble any further. He saw a flash of red hair and then he was being set straight up and supported on each side. His whole body now was starting to feel numb, but he managed to turn his head to look at one of his rescuers.

"Charlie?" he questioned, upon seeing the woman beside him.

"Hiya, Cas," she said.

Then he turned his head to the other side and found a pair of dark determined eyes staring hard at him.

"Hello, Castiel," said Kevin. "I've been looking for you."

Cas tilted his head and squinted at the former servant of Azazel. "Why?"

Kevin carefully released his grip on Cas, and Charlie instinctively braced the former angel to compensate while Kevin dug around in his pocket.

Then the young man pulled out the vial of swirling grace.

Cas suddenly felt a pull towards that energy, as if his own internal being was striving to reunite with the vial's contents. But it couldn't be _his_ , it couldn't be –

Kevin turned the vial slightly, and it was then Cas saw the truth of it upon the label:

His own name was staring back at him, in fine cursive letters.

* * *

Chuck had searched much of the castle for Amara, and yet the only things he found were signs of general battle and havoc. Some of his best guardsmen lay dead in the halls, and when he found Azazel in the same fashion, he was blinded by rage.

He cared not for the Count and had no grief for him, only bitter disappointment that Azazel had failed him as much as the rest. He kicked the Count's unmoving legs in a fit of petty anger.

Chuck closed his eyes and forced himself to think properly. Amara was free, but she had no hope of recovering her powers without a witch. Therefore she must be fleeing even now, out of his grasp.

Fleeing. Of course.

He cursed himself for being so stupid. The castle was no use to him, and it was the grounds he must search now. He snapped his fingers.

* * *

Benny, Sam, and Dean had just made it back to the main gate when Prince Chuck appeared directly before them.

A thousand things seemed to happen at once: Dean made eye contact with the Prince and reached for a weapon only to remember in horror that he had none on his person. At the same time, Benny released the reins of the horses and his mouth grew sharp with fangs. Sam unsheathed his sword.

Benny and Sam stepped forward, shielding the unarmed Winchester. They glanced at each other in silent communication, and then without warning, they rushed Chuck from either side.

Prince Chuck merely sighed and snapped his fingers. The boys were thrown back by the unseen force and fell away into crumpled heaps upon the ground.

Dean growled with frustration, rage burning in his chest like wildfire.

The horses all scattered and ran, except Baby who pawed the ground nervously, looking wild and scared.

Then Dean, driven to the edge, leaped towards the Prince without much of a plan in mind. He didn't care that he didn't have a weapon, he was going to punch Chuck in his stupid, smug face.

Prince Chuck was too fast or powerful or both. The second Dean was in reach, his hand shot out to grab Dean by the throat.

The grip was tight and getting tighter. Dean gasped and his fingers scratched uselessly at the back of Chuck's hands.

"Where. Is. Amara," demanded Chuck, eyes glinting dangerously.

Dean was stunned. He had no intention of giving Chuck any information, but this was the one question he couldn't answer if he wanted to. The Queen had escaped apparently, but where was she now? Was it possible she had fled on her own, and now they were left in this mess?

But Chuck seemed to think Dean knew the answer, and it was quite possibly the only thing keeping him alive.

"I'm not telling you anything," Dean choked out.

Chuck sighed. "We'll see about that, Dean," he said, and then, from nowhere, a blade appeared in his hand, while the other remained clenched on Dean's throat. The god brought the point of it to Dean's face, against the skin of his cheek.

Dean closed his eyes and braced himself for pain and torture, but then a crashing sound off to their right made his eyes snap open again.

The castle's main gate had been smashed to smithereens. Light was spilling out onto the dark grounds and someone was silhouetted against it.

Dean squinted to get a better look and what he saw made his heart beat rapid-fire in his chest.

It was Cas.

But it was Cas as he'd never seen him before.

His eyes were glowing, a radiant unnatural blue shining from their sockets. And on his back, great black wings were unfurling outward. They were massive and powerful-looking.

On his heels, two smaller figures could be seen exiting the castle behind him, but Dean could hardly take his eyes away from Castiel.

"Oh hell," said Chuck, and he was shocked enough to release his grip on Dean's neck. He turned to face the angel instead.

Cas lifted a hand and flicked his wrist. Dean suddenly felt a tug on his back, as if he was being reeled away like a fish on a line. It was gentle enough that he was able to stay on his feet, and then he understood. While Chuck had let go of him and was distracted, Cas had taken the opportunity to put distance between him and the god.

He was protecting Dean. Again.

Dean looked around – he was now next to Sam and Benny. The vampire was sitting upright, but the giant lay still on the ground. Benny saw this and crawled over to his companion. Dean was torn between helping the two men and watching out for Cas, who was approaching Chuck with even footsteps.

"You will not hurt Dean Winchester," said Cas, in a gravelly, booming voice that resonated for all to hear. "You will not hurt anyone again."

Prince Chuck stood his ground, but Dean had to tear his eyes away from the scene when he heard a nearby voice cry out.

"Oh no, Sam!"

Two people were running towards them from the castle. Dean braced himself for a fight, but the concern on their faces made him think that they were perhaps friends, not foes.

Benny seemed to confirm this when he said, "Charlie? Kevin? What are you doing here?"

"We brought Castiel his grace, but never mind that now! Is Sam alright?" Charlie asked, clearly distressed.

"Unconscious," grunted Benny. "But we will all be a lot worse if Castiel can't hold Chuck off."

Dean looked back at Cas and Chuck, fear spiking through his heart. Cas might be an angel again, but Chuck was a god of immense power. Was there really any chance?

Prince Chuck appeared to be having the same thoughts. He stood nonchalantly across from Cas, an eyebrow raised in apparent amusement.

"So little Castiel got his wings back and thinks he can play on my level. Angels are a dime a dozen, if you've forgotten. Nothing compared to me."

Like Cas's voice, Chuck's words carried over the castle grounds, almost as a warning.

"Your conceit will be your downfall, Chuck," replied Cas calmly.

Prince Chuck scowled. It was an ugly, pitiless look. He snapped his fingers.

Cas fell to his knees, clutching his stomach in sudden debilitating pain. He groaned aloud in anguish.

"Cas!" Dean yelled. He made to run towards the angel, but Charlie had grabbed one of his arms to hold him back. He attempted to shake her off, but she clutched him even tighter.

"Wait, wait, you idiot! I'm not stopping you, just, take this!" She shoved a sword into his hand. He clutched the weapon around the handle. Dean spared her a grateful look to convey his thanks, and then took off again towards Chuck and Cas. Benny surged forward as well, anger and restrained grief for Sam spurring his need to fight.

Charlie and Kevin took Benny's place kneeling over Sam, checking his pulse and fretting helplessly. The giant was getting paler by the minute.

Chuck was ready for both Dean and Benny. He snapped his fingers once more, and both gasped and bent double just as they reached Cas, who was also still kneeling in the clutches of pain.

"This wasn't how I wanted this to go!" railed Chuck. "This was supposed to be epic! A war with devastating casualties and destruction, a reflection of the futility of mortal and semi-mortal beings – demons, angels, man. Now it's just me, a god, getting rid of three losers. That's not new! What's interesting about that story?"

As Chuck spoke, his rage grew and the pain the three were suffering intensified to unbearable levels.

The sword dropped from Dean's hand. His vision was getting fuzzy around the edges.

_I guess this is it then_ , he thought sadly. He hadn't saved Cas or himself, and now Benny and probably the others were caught up in it as well. He wondered if maybe Sam would live to fight another day, but that didn't seem likely, either.

It was a sad thought upon a million other sad thoughts.

"Dean." Cas managed to speak through his pain, and Dean forced himself to stay conscious and look towards the angel. His angel.

They caught each other's gaze. Cas's eyes were no longer the glowing supernatural blue – they had faded back to their normal color, but no less beautiful than ever.

Like the sea before a storm.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I failed."

"No," Dean coughed out. "Not to me."

He reached, near blind, feeling out for one of Cas's hand. He found it after a moment, and the angel interlocked their fingers together and gave Dean's hand a faint squeeze.

Somewhere that felt distant now, Prince Chuck was still ranting.

But Cas was with him, here in the end and that – that gave him comfort and peace.

Dean's head swam and his vision dimmed to almost nothing and then—

A woman's voice, close at hand, rang out across the grounds. There was power and strength in every word; not a hint of fear could be detected.

"That's enough, Chuck," said the woman.

Suddenly Dean's pain was gone, a mere ghostly ache of itself remaining. He turned his head and saw a hooded figure silhouetted near the open gate.

Dean was too overwhelmed to think properly. _Who?_ – he thought.

He didn't have to wait long for the answer.

The woman pulled off her hood.

Her hair fluttered in the wind, and she looked formidable and otherworldly against the dark horizon.

Queen Amara had arrived.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a week, huh? Hope everyone is doing well both personally and with recent developments... ;)

Prince Chuck's eyes went wide and wild. He snapped his fingers immediately, attempting to banish Amara back to her cell, to be locked away again.

Queen Amara remained where she was, and Prince Chuck felt a sinking of his gut. He tried again, but again there was no result, not even a flicker.

His dread increased immeasurably. Queen Amara had gotten her powers back. How?

Benny, Dean, and Cas regained their footing, but they might as well have been invisible for all the notice Chuck paid them now.

Amara approached her brother. Though she seemed resolute, there was a sadness about her, too.

"I will only say this once, Chuck. We were - are - family, in spite of the way you have treated me. You and I both know I cannot kill you and you cannot kill me. But...I can make you hurt, if I have to. Surrender yourself now and it won't come to that."

Chuck scoffed. "You call us family, but offer me nothing but threats. I stood in your shadow for too long, Sis. I'm not going back."

Amara sighed. "It wasn't a threat, Chuck. It was a warning. And it's more than you deserve."

Chuck glared. "Well, you've screwed up the plans. But I'll scrape together a new ending anyway."

Suddenly Chuck was aglow in a strange light. The ground began to tremble under foot and the sound of it was like thunder. From nowhere a lightning strike cracked and struck out at Amara, but a black smoke had erupted just in time to absorb the blow.

Cas and Dean looked at each other, unsure of what to do or how to help. A little way behind them, Kevin and Charlie were also stunned, and Sam was still unconscious.

The black smoke around Amara was now spreading in dense tendrils, which were reaching out for Chuck.

The Prince narrowed his eyes. The light glowing around him transformed into several bolting beams. They pierced through some of Amara's dark smoke.

Amara clutched her chest and let out a grunt of pain. But still she stood and even took a step closer to her brother. The smoke was all around her body, like a shield, and more strands grew like arms at her command. A few managed to spike sharply out at Chuck, and then two tentacles of smoke were wrapping around the Prince's neck.

Prince Chuck choked and shuddered. For a moment it seemed that Amara was unstoppable, but then Chuck sliced with his blade, which glowed blue in his hand. He cut at the smoke holding him, and though it was not solid, it withered at the contact.

He regained his breath, then stared daggers at the Queen. Lightning flashed again in the dark sky, menacing. The air smelled like burning metal. "Well, Amara, what now?" he taunted. "We can do this all day."

"But you won't," said a harsh voice, and Dean was shocked to see it was Cas that had spoken from beside him.

Chuck just had time to turn an incredulous look at the angel before Cas's eyes were glowing blue again. He lifted his hand and the Prince grew stiff as Cas's power enveloped him.

It wouldn't have worried Chuck - an angel's strength would be incredibly short-lived when facing a god, but...

It was enough. Because in the instant he was held by Castiel, Amara took the opportunity provided. The black smoke reached out again, and a thick stream of it curled around Chuck's whole body like a python. His arms were forced to his sides, and another tendril wrapped around his blade and yanked it from his hand.

Chuck fought away panic. The smoke felt hot, just shy of burning. It was fine though, he could still get out as long as he -

"Now, Rowena!" shouted Queen Amara.

A figure emerged from the castle, and suddenly the Prince knew all was lost. The red-headed woman approached. Her eyes were focused and on her lips was an ancient chant.

It was a spell Chuck knew well, for he had used it on his sister years ago, with the help of a different witch in what felt like a much different time.

Rowena's chant never wavered, and Amara's hold grew stronger, and Castiel stood ready to fight again with his hand still outstretched, and even Dean Winchester now had a sword pointed in Chuck's direction.

And then Rowena finished in a loud, carrying voice. She gave Amara a nod, and the Queen snapped her fingers. Chuck disappeared right before all their eyes.

Dean blinked in disbelief.

The black smoke dissipated though the air still felt thick. Rowena and Queen Amara approached Benny, Dean, and Castiel.

"Hello boys," said Rowena. She looked a little drained, but still offered them a satisfied smirk.

Cas looked at Queen Amara. He gave her a bow, and Dean and Benny awkwardly followed suit.

"You need not bow to me, any of you. Your part in freeing me, in defeating Chuck, has put me forever in your debt."

Cas nodded his head in stoic acknowledgment. Dean said, "But, Your Highness, may I ask - where is Chuck? Is he really secure?"

"My brother is in a prison of his own making. But his powers are bound now, and with Rowena's help, I have strengthened precautions against him. He will not be able to escape his cell nor get his powers back in the manner in which I did, not even if he tried. And trusted guards will be added to his security shortly."

Dean released the breath he was holding. He couldn't believe it was over, that they were free. He looked at Cas, and his eyes watered slightly as he felt the weight of the world leave him.

Cas smiled tenderly at him.

"Hey! Hey!" came a slightly shrill voice. "We need help over here!"

It was Charlie, and she was kneeling over Sam's body, looking desperate.


	27. Chapter 27

The whole group rushed over to Sam's side, even Queen Amara.

Benny got there first. Charlie looked up at him with tears glistening in her eyes. "I - I can't find his pulse."

Benny swallowed hard and turned to Castiel. "He's been bleeding out for awhile. Can you –?"

Cas kneeled down beside Charlie. He placed two fingers on Sam's forehead, and summoned the healing powers of his grace.

But the energy died at his fingertips, and Sam did not stir. "I - he's too far gone," Cas said.

Benny bit his lip and turned his face away from them. Kevin bowed his head in defeat.

"Cas, are you _sure_?" asked Dean, voice cracking slightly. It wasn't fair that Sam should die here, now, when Heaven had been set back in order and they had won.

Cas shook his head, looking pained. "Dean, I _can't._ "

Dean was really about to lose it when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. It was Queen Amara.

"I told you, Dean. I am indebted to you. All of you," she said, staring around at the wayward, mighty group before her. Then she looked down at Sam. "And that includes him."

Then she gestured for Cas to step aside and took his place kneeling over Sam. She cupped one hand to his cheek and placed the other on his stomach wound. Before their eyes, the bloody mess on Sam's shirt disappeared and color started returning to his pale face. Suddenly he took a deep, gasping breath, and his eyes fluttered open. Amara stepped back to give him space.

The first thing Sam did was reach for his sword. Not because he was fearful, but because it was a comfort to him. It had been his mother's, after all. The hilt was cool and reassuring in his grip. Slowly, he sat upright. He looked from face to face with increasing wonder and confusion. Finally, his gaze landed on Benny.

"Uh, what did I miss?"

Benny laughed deep and pure, then reached out to help Sam to his feet.

* * *

It was not quite time to ride off into the sunset, but it was on the horizon, pun intended.

Queen Amara asked the group to stay in the castle for a few days while everything was sorted out. They gave her counsel in turn, and with their help, she was able to discern which guards and angels had betrayed her. In short order, she had all the traitors banished to The Empty Lands.

Much news was shared between all of them. Dean learned of Cas's untimely demise and resurrection, and Kevin learned that his his tormentor, The Count, had been justly killed for his crimes. Eventually, the details of the whole affair had come together for them all.

After hearing Castiel's version of events, the angel Michael was rewarded with highest honors from the Queen. He was also the first whom she entrusted to guard Chuck's cell, and he performed this duty faithfully for her throughout his immortal life.

Queen Amara herself worked hard to put the castle back in order. Soon enough, word had spread across the kingdom that the Prince had fallen into disgrace, and that the Queen had returned to her rightful rule of Heaven.

A few days after Chuck's imprisonment, Queen Amara called all the major players of that fateful day into her court for assembly.

Though she was quite regal in a beautiful new gown, she looked at them as though they were not subjects, but dear friends. She stood up from her throne and spoke softly. "I've called you all here because I want to make offerings of gratitude to each of you."

She looked at Rowena and Charlie first. "Rowena, you helped me immensely. If it would please you, I would love to have you back as my Remedy Woman. With a salary twice what it was before, and luxurious accommodations here in the castle. Charlie, you are of course welcome to join her and fill your days as you choose. If there is any role you desire, it shall be yours."

Rowena beamed and Charlie blushed. They looked at each other, then back at the Queen. "We would like that very much," said Charlie.

Queen Amara nodded, and then moved on to Kevin. He looked at her nervously. "Kevin Tran. Your bravery in helping return Castiel's grace was instrumental in Prince Chuck's defeat. I thank you for that. However I confess that I'm not sure what to offer you in repayment. So please, name your request."

Kevin stood up straighter and looked directly into Amara's eyes. "Your Majesty, I have been a – a hostage to Count Azazel for the past few years. All I really want now is to go home. I'd like to see my mother again."

Amara smiled. "Then I'll give you whatever you need. A carriage and driver perhaps? With food for the journey and traveling attire, if you'll have it?"

Kevin smiled. "Thank you, my Queen."

Then Amara turned to the other four men, who were standing somewhat awkwardly together. "And here we have a vampire, a giant, an angel, and a hunter. All of great valor. What are _your_ requests?"

Benny and Sam looked at each other, then back to Amara. Sam sighed slightly. "You know, I was hunting the yellow-eyed man for so long, I'm not sure what to do now."

Amara nodded sympathetically. "Well, we're currently in need of Royal Guards, and you two are more than qualified. Although," she glanced at Castiel, "I've heard tell that the Dread Demon Cain has...gone to ground. Perhaps you would prefer the open sea?"

Sam smiled. He looked back at Benny. "Perhaps," he said. "May we think it over?"

"Of course."

Then at last Queen Amara turned to Dean and Castiel in particular. They were standing hand in hand, and of course everyone knew that whatever their fate, it would be together.

"So what of Castiel and Dean Winchester?"

"Well, Your Highness," said Dean. "Cas and I have been discussing this for the past few days. Before this all began, we wanted to travel throughout Heaven together and then settle down eventually. We still want that."

"We just want to be free," added Castiel.

Amara smiled, and touched a hand to the angel's shoulder. "Of course, Castiel."

Then she stepped back and looked at all of them again. "Arrangements will be made for all of you. Those of you traveling should be able to set off tomorrow. Tonight, though, you are all invited to a feast in your honor. I hope to see you there."

She smiled and dismissed them.

After walking out of Amara's court together, they all felt more relaxed and cheerful. Benny cracked jokes, Sam chatted with Charlie, and Dean and Cas flirted uninhibitedly.

Rowena felt quite fond of them all, which was a rather a new experience for the witch. So it was with a tinge of sadness that she spared a thought for the following day, when everyone was destined to go their separate ways.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally intended to separate this chapter in two, but the length didn't justify it to me. So that means we have come to the final chapter. This was a fun story to write! Thank you to everyone for reading, kudos, and/or commenting – it certainly kept me motivated throughout the process.

The next morning Queen Amara joined the group at the outer grounds of the castle to see off those that were leaving. For now, Benny and Sam had decided to stay in the Queen's service, and also keep Rowena and Charlie company.

But Kevin was given the driver and carriage he was promised. Castiel and Dean took only Baby for their departure, though the Queen had also found Castiel's ship in the Royal Harbor. It had been secretly docked there by Chuck since Cas's capture.

"But I have no need of it," Castiel had told Amara, and later, he said the same to Sam. "And I'd like you to have it, Samuel, son of Mary. In case the sea ever calls you."

Sam and Benny smiled at the angel and at Dean who was beside him. Benny placed a hand on the hunter's shoulder. "This isn't goodbye forever, brother. I'm sure we'll see each other again, one way or another."

"Hope so," said Dean, and he had to fight to keep emotion from clogging his voice.

Rowena, Charlie, and Kevin had been talking with Amara, but now the three joined them. Tearful goodbyes were shared. Thanks were given. Dean gave Sam a hug, slightly surprising the giant. "Thanks for everything. You died for me, and you brought Cas back. Means the world to me, Sammy."

Sam beamed at the nickname. It sounded nice, coming from Dean. "Technically, I died because I'm a stubborn, vengeful bastard...but, you're welcome, Dean."

Kevin was the first to set off. He was teary-eyed, as were they all, but there was a smile on his face. He gave his last thanks to the Queen and waved at the little group through the carriage window.

Rowena sighed. "He's a good lad," she said.

"I'll miss him," said Charlie.

And then at last they turned to Castiel and Dean, who were now getting Baby's saddle ready.

"Best of luck, you two!" said Charlie, and the group chorused the sentiment.

Queen Amara looked at Dean and Castiel, fondness written across her face. "Please remember that you will always be welcome at the castle and may call upon me if you ever have need. May your freedom, love, and happiness be eternal."

Dean swallowed hard, nearly overcome. He was grateful when Cas responded for both of them. "Thank you, Your Highness. Thank you, everyone," Cas said, once again looking to the faces of his friends.

Benny chuckled. "Alright, off with you," he said. "Any more goodbyes and we'll be standing here all day."

Cas and Dean nodded their agreement. Benny was right. It was time to go.

So they mounted Baby, with Dean at the reins and Cas settled behind him. They gave the group parting waves, then rode off on the long road, towards the horizon.

* * *

_For the past few chapters of the book, Jack Kline had been entirely enthralled. The only breaks he needed were quick runs to the bathroom and to get a glass of water. His father, seeing Jack's excitement, couldn't bring himself to stop reading, even as his voice grew more and more hoarse._

_His father turned another page and smiled. Then he looked up at his son. "Just one more chapter, Jack, and it's a short one. Are you ready?"_

__

__

_"Yeah!" said the boy eagerly._

_The man took a long drink from his own water glass, then began to read once more._

That first day that Castiel and Dean traveled together was beautiful and sunny. It was pleasant riding Baby through grassy countryside, over hills, and next to pretty little streams. Cas was very content to sit behind Dean as Baby carried them both onward.

Just after noon, the two stopped for a lovely picnic. They spread out a blanket under a fine old oak tree and ate a good serving of the delicious food that Queen Amara had sent with them.

When they finished eating, they laid together and stared up toward the sky, watching the way the oak tree leaves rustled in the wind.

"Hey," said Dean suddenly. "I just remembered. I'm, um, legally married to Chuck now. Do you think having him imprisoned means instant annulment?"

Cas laughed slightly and ran his fingers through Dean's hair. "Why in the world should that matter now? What's legally binding and what's real are very different things. What made you think of it?"

Dean blushed. "Just, you know, everything should be in order in case we ever want to...officially, I mean."

Cas loved him for it, loved him beyond words. Then he smiled at Dean again. "Did you say 'I do,' Dean?" he asked.

Dean thought back. It seemed so long ago, though it had only been a week. "Wait a minute! I didn't!" he said excitedly. "The minister said we were wed, but I never agreed to it!"

Cas turned towards him, beaming. "Then you aren't married, Dean, and we are quite free to...if we ever wanted. Officially."

They smiled almost shyly, and then the pull of gravity was simply too strong to resist. As they reached for each other –"

_Jack's father paused, then said, "And well, you know, that's about it."_

_"Wait, what?"_

_"_ _It's kissing again. I'm sure you don't want to hear about that."_

_Jack fiddled with his sheets. "It's okay. I - I don't mind so much."_

_His father could hardly contain his knowing smile. "Okay, I'll continue then."_

As they reached for each other, their hearts felt impossibly light and free. It is said that since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure.

This one left them all behind.

_Jack's father took a deep breath and closed the book. He set it down on the boy's lap. Jack smiled, touching the cover of his present gently, almost reverently._

_His father checked the time on his watch. Though he hated to leave his son, it was almost dinnertime, and he didn't want to impose on Kelly again any more than he had._

_He stood up from his seat and ruffled Jack's hair. "I have to head out, Jack, but I hope you feel better. When you do, we can play catch if you want."_

_The man pulled his long trench coat from off the back of his chair and shrugged into it._

_Jack grinned. "That'd be good, Dad. And maybe - maybe sometime you can read me the book again?" he asked, somewhat awkwardly._

_Jack's father looked at him with a tender smile and fond, twinkling blue eyes._

_"As you wish."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed for everyone for the finale they hope to see!


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